SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


FKOM  THE  GERMAN  OF 


BARON  GOETHE 


s 

□ 

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'RA NSL  ATION,  REVISED  AND  COMPARER  WIT. 
.,  "    ALL  TH«  FORMER  EDITIONS. 


^      ITHACA,  If,  Y.:  '  , 
DRUS,  G^UNTLETT,  <k  CO. 

i  •  i5'ivJt  iä5§lv  2    .  «ISS 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/sorrowsofwerter01goet 


THE 

'3>®im©WS  03T  WMMTMM, 

THAN  SI.  ATEU) 

3$&©M    THE  GIMAH, 


THE 

SORROWS 

OF 

WERTER. 

f  ROM  THE  GERMAN 
OP 

BARON  GOETHE. 

— — 
A  NEW  TRANSLATION, 

REVISED  AND  COMPARED  WITH  ALL  THE 
FORMER  EDITIONS. 


'    ITHACA.  N.  Y. : 
PUBLISHED  BY  ANDRUS,  GAUNTLETT,  &  CO., 

No.  69  OWEGO  STREET. 


I  .  - 

PRE  F A  C  & 

FEW  publications  of  the  novel  kind  have  enjoyed 
more  celebrity  tliati  the  one  before  us.  It  was  origi- 
nally translated  from  the  German  into  French,  and 
thence  into  English  ;  since  that  it  has  been  done 
Groin  the  German.  There  is  occasionally  a  discor 
dance  between  those  rival  productions,  and  many 
parts  have  been  misconceived,  or  added  to,  by  the 
ingenuity  of  the  translators.  The  present  edition 
has  been  printed  with  a  view  to  combine  not  only 
the  real  force  and  sentiment  of  Werter,  as  they  are 
given  by  Mr.  Goethe,  but  as  a  more  perfect  model  of 
the  author's  maimer,  which  has  been  much  perverted, 
and  often  misconceived. 

It  is  evident  that  Mr.  Goethe  is  much  attached  to 
the  simple  scene  of  domestic  life  and  rural  scenery, 
many  of  which  are  here  drawn  with  the  most  inte 
resting  and  masterly  hand.  He  esteems  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield  for  this  cause,  though  the  characters  of 
the  heroes  are  drawn  diametrically  opposite.  It  has 
been  objected  to  in  this  work  that  Mr.  Goethe  is  the 
champion  of  suicide.    The  Reader  will  best  judge 


mm 

IV  PREFACE 

how  far  this  is  true  or  not.  Certain  it  appears  thai 
Albert's  arguments  in  reply  to  Werter  on  this  head, 
are  weak,  compared  to  those  of  his  antagonist  :  but 
it  must  be  considered  that  it  is  the  history  of  Werler 
which  is  written,  and  that  it  was  not  the  in  Cult  ion  to 
convince  him,  by  the  force  of  Albert's  arguments,  of 
the  gross  absurdity  and  cowardice  of  that  practice 
to  which  his  irritable  and  romantic  mind  constantly 
tended.  Werter  was  amiable,  but  he  was  weak  ;  he 
had  a  strong  mind  in  certain  particulars;  but  if  was 
in  others  little  better  than  a  lucid  insanity,  lie  loved 
where  religion  and  prudence  forbade  his  Mission, 
and  died  in  conformity  to  that  erroneous  reasoning 
which  made  him  pursue  Charlotte,  when,  in  the  first 
instance,  he  was  infonuea  she  v.  as  devoted  to  'tino- 
iher. 


THE 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 

LETTER  I. 

May  4,  1770. 

NO  longer  do  we  behold  each  other  :  we  are  sepa- 
rated, and  1  feel  pleased  at  it — To  me  it  is  a  matte? 
of  astonishment,  that  I  could  tear  myself  from  him 
who  was  the  juvenile  friend  of  my  early  days,  who 
is  even  now  my  other  self ;  he,  whose  internal  com- 
position is  fashioned  like  my  own.  How  incon- 
sistently are  we  morally  formed ! — Seeking  rest 
where  it  is  not  to  be  found. — Your  goodness  I  know 
will  overlook  this  opinion;  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
Destiny  has  inevitably  placed  my  brightest  pros- 
pects in  the  back  ground,  and  turned  into  misery 
the  most  certain  assurances  of  earthly  bliss. — Oh  ! 
poor  Leonora  !"* — The  soft  and  generous  passion, 
which  stole  into  her  gentle  bosom,  cannot  be  al- 
leged against  me  ;  when  I  made  an  avowal  of  my 
sense  of  her  Aster's  perfections  :  but  I  am  not  cer- 
tain of  being  altogether  guiltless. — Is  it  not  proba- 
ble that  T  may  have  nurtured  the  passion  she  felt, 
by  those  testimonies  of  admiration  and  pleasure 
which  I  evinced  at  the  little  expressions  of  atten- 
tion she  displayed  towards  me. — Alas,  how  ready 
are  we  to  place  ideal  terrors  in  our  own  footpath  ! 
But  let  me  not  cherish  these  reasonings  ! — No;  but 


*  She  was  the  first  love  of  Werter,  and  died  at  Brunswick. 
Werter  was  so  deeply  wounded  at  her  death,  that  he  directly 
■tfter  withdrew  to  Wetzlar. 


2 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


rather  turn  to  another  view,  and  abandoning  the  re- 
trospect of  what  is  past,  and  ceasing  to  grieve  at 
the  ills  inseparable  from  this  mortal  existence,  let 
me  forget  them  all,  and  taste  the  present  moments. — 
My  friend  advises  this — and  it  is  just — since  the  re- 
collection of  that  which  has  given  us  pain,  serves 
only  to  augment  the  anguish  of  the  wretched  past. 

Please  to  inform  my  mother  that  her  affairs  shall 
be  punctually  attended  to,  and  that  I  will  soon  send 
her  information  respecting  them. — From  a  closer 
view  of  my  aunt,  I  do  not  find  her  so  unreasonable 
as  report  has  spoken  ;  she  is  possessed  of  violent 
passions,  but  has  a  friendly  soul. — You  know  that 
my  mother's  estate  has  been  for  a  long  time  in  dis- 
pute ;  but  my  aunt  is  not  deserving  of  blame  ;  and 
has  named  the  terms  on  which  she  is  willing  to  sur- 
render up — even  more  than  was  requested.  You 
may  inform  her  that  this  affair  cannot  wear  any  other 
than  the  most  favourable  aspect  for  her  interest. 
Hence,  my  friend,  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that 
inattention  and  misconception  are  the  sources  of 
more  strife  with  mankind  than  villany  or  deception; 
or  what  is  equivalent,  that  the  consequences  of  the 
former  are  more  generally  felt. 

I  am  perfectly  comfortable  here — Placed  in  this 
earthly  elysium,  I  taste  that  sanative  balm  of  a 
wounded  soul,  that  serene  solitude  so  endearing  to 
the  unhappy  ! — My  heart  swells  with  the  spring,  and 
my  frame  is  full  of  energy.  The  trees  feel  the  ge- 
nial embrace  of  nature — the  air  is  filled  with  her 
purest  perfumes — the  winged  choir  salute  the  dawn, 
and  at  evening  Philomel  warbles  forth  her  monody 
to  the  departing  light ! — How  much  to  me  are  the 
town  and  country  at  variance  !  The  former  is  full  of 
insipidity,  but  in  the  environs  of  the  latter  abound 
the  luxuriant  beauties  of  nature  ! — The  neat  and 
tasteful  garden  of  the  late  Marquis  of  Mobley  is 
situated  on  one  of  the  hills  which  enrich  these  rural 
scenes  ;  and  at  a  first  view  one  may  be  assured,  that 


SORROWS  OP  WERTER. 


3 


the  manner  in  which  it  is  laid  out,  is  the  work  not 
of  the  mere  gardener,  but  of  one  whose  mind  has 
been  superior  to  the  common  rules  of  horticulture. 
Here  is  erected  a  tomb,  shaded  by  an  arbour,  but 
now  little  visited,  and  going  to  decay.  On  this  spot 
have  I  shecf  some  tears  to  the  memory  of  its  deceased 
ossessor. — It  was  formerly  his  favourite  retreat — I 
ave  copied  him,  and  made  it  mine  ;  I  hope  to  be 
his  successor ;  and  I  have  applied  for  that  purpose 
to  the  gardener,  whose  civilities  I  mean  to  engage 
by  a  suitable  behaviour.  

LETTER  II. 

May  10. 

MY  mind,  like  the  unruffled  spring  morning,  is 
now  all  calmness  and  serenity ;  and  hence  the  sweets 
of  my  solitude  are  increased.  It  is  now,  in  scenes 
congenial  to  a  soul  constructed  like  mine,  that  I  be- 
gin to  exist. — In  the  pleasures  of  this  umbrageous 
retreat,  I  rather  live  than  act;  for  all  my  former 
studies  and  pastimes  lie  neglected  and  unthought 
of. — The  pencil  has  become  torpid  ;  but  yet  I  am  a 
better  painter  than  before — When  the  misty  vapours 
sparkle  in  watery  drops  on  the  leafy  boughs  ;  and 
the  deep  shade  of  the  thick  foliage  only  emits  a  few 
faint  streams  of  light  and  heat  from  the  meridian 
fire,  it  is  my  delight  to  saunter  beneath  the  arched 
shelter ;  then  the  tall  grass  forms  my  couch,  and 
stretched  out  on  the  bank  of  the  rippling  streamlet, 
I  contemplate  the  great  varieties  of  nature — her  in- 
numerable productions,  and  the  myriads  of  insect 
beings  who  live  in  and  exist  upon  them.  How  little 
did  I  once  value  those  things — they  now  excite  all 
my  attention  ;  they  boldly  declare  to  me  that  a  ce- 
lestial arm  has  placed  us  in  existence,  and  that  an 
immortal  omniscience  upholds  the  world  ! — At  night, 
when  darkness  closes  these  beauties  to  my  view,  I 
paint  on  my  imagination  all  that  I  have  admired — all 


4 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


the  wonderful  works  of  nature,  and  my  tongue  bur3t8 
forth  into  the.ejaculations  of  gratitude  and  piety ! — 
for  the  recollections  they  engender,  like  the  portrait 
of  an  adored  mistress,  pregnant  with  the  sweetest 
heartsprings  of  joy  !  My  friend  ! — I  ardently  wish 
that  my  powers  of  utterance  could  equal  the  force 
of  my  imagination — and  that  my  paper  could  exhibit 
the  extent  of  the  feelings  within, — alas!  words  are 
but  insignificant  representatives  of  such  sublime  con- 
ceptions, the  magnitude  of  which  confound  and  over- 
whelm the  soul !  

LETTER  III. 

May  12. 

ALL  that  surrounds  me  is  a  celestial  Eden — and 
either  influenced  by  some  invisible  agent  of  enchant- 
ment, or  my  soul  is  alive  to  the  most  pleasing  emo- 
tions. I  sit,  irresistibly  attracted  by  the  side  of  a 
clear  spring  which  gurgles  from  a  rocky  bed,  placed 
about  twenty  steps  down  in  a  cave  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill.  An  old  ivied  wall  encloses  it — tall  pines  form 
its  canopy — invigorating  zephyrs  fan  it — Murmurs 
steal  from  its  bosom — the  tenants  of  the  leafy  sprays 
tune  their  symphonies  to  its  falls — what  a  collection 
of  causes  to  inspire  the  soul  with  the  most  elevated 
sensations  ! — Every  day  I  spend  an  hour  in  this  se- 
questered spot,  to  which  the  lasses  from  the  city 
repair  to  fill  their  water  vessels — an  innocent  and 
useful  occupation,  once  the  delight  and  custom  of 
the  daughters  of  monarch s. — This  idea  leads  my 
fancy  back  to  the  customs  of  remote  ages,  when  I 
think  I  see  our  ancestors,  directed  by  the  invisible 
operation  of  benign  spirits,  entering  into  compacts, 
and  forming  alliances  by  the  fountain  side  ; — here 
too  I  survey  the  weary  pilgrim,  faint  with  the  heat 
of  summer,  reclining  on  the  verdant  bank,  or  bathing 
in  the  pure  refreshing  stream.  Surely,  my  friend, 
everv  one  must  have  similar  sentiments  and  feelinga 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


5 


so  mine ;  or  he  can  never  have  tasted  the  reviving 
Deverage  of  a  pellucid  fountain,  after  the  thirst  which 
parches  in  a  tedious  summer's  walk. 

LETTER  IV. 

May  13. 

YOU  propose  to  send  rne  books  ! — No,  my  dear 
friend  :  I  acknowledge  with  gratitude  your  kind  in- 
tention ;  and  as  earnestly  must  desire  you  to  decline 
it ;  so  many  causes  have  agitated  and  influenced  my 
mind,  that  I  am  now  only  covetous  of  liberty,  and 
the  unshackled  possession  of  my  inward  cogitation 
—of  melancholy  melting  strains,  such  as  I  find  in 
women. — Frequently  have  I  strove  to  soothe  the 
violence  of  my  raging  phrensies — to  curb  the  furious 
burstings  of  my  bosom; — you  have  often  witnessed 
these  laudable  attempts  to  subdue  the  sudden  tran- 
sitions of  my  nature — you  have  seen  mc  alternately 
dejected,  and  bounding  with  rapture  ;  at  this  mo- 
ment sunk  in  softest  sorrow — in  the  next  agitated 
with  storms ! — As  the  ailing  infant  claims  indul- 
gence, so  does  this  heart; — yet  1  blush  to  acknow- 
ledge that  which  the  world  would  deservedly  censure 
as  a  weakness ;  for  he  is  certainly  entitled  to  con- 
tempt who  surfers  his  passions  to  lord  it  over  his 
reason ! 

LETTER  V. 

May  15. 

I  BEGIN  to  be  respected  by  the  people  about 
here,  and  beloved  by  all  the  infant  race  but  at  first 
they  seemed  rudely  shy,  and  doubted  if  my  conver- 
sation was  not  a  mask  to  some  unfair  purpose  ; — I, 
however,  saw  no  derogation  in  endeavouring  to  win 
their  smiles,  and  hence  confirmed  one  of  those  re- 
marks which  have  several  times  occurred  to  me,  that 
the  great  have  too  much  predilection  for  keeping 
the  little  at  a  distance,  as  if  there  resulted  a  conta- 
«nnous  taint  from  too  near  an  approximation. — Ig 


e 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


not  this  a  trait  of  hollow  pride  ? — How  inconsistent 
is  it  to  see  the  noble  at  one  moment  making  free 
with  the  plebeian,  at  another  treating  him  with  sar- 
casm and  contempt. — We  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  all 
equal  in  this  present  state  ;  but  much,  very  much 
in  error  is  that  man  whose  dignity  and  delights  are 
founded  on  the  distance  at  which  he  keeps  his 
neighbour — the  principle  resembles  that  of  a  cow- 
ard, who  avoids  his  enemy  from  the  fear  of  meeting 
him. 

In  visiting  my  fountain  one  day,  I  saw  a  young 
woman  on  the  last  step,  who  had  filled  her  pail,  and 
was  waiting  for  one  of  her  companions  to  help  her 
up  with  it. — I  directly  descended,  and  said,  "  Let 
me,  my  dear,  assist  you!" — With  cheeks  that 
blushed  as  deeply  as  her  lips,  she  modestly  replied, 
"O  dear,  no,  Sir," — but  T,  regardless  of  her  dissent, 
raised  the  pail  to  her  head — her  smile  said  more 
than  the  longest  speech,  and  I  was  more  than  repaid 
for  the  little  aid  I  had  given. 

LETTER  VI. 

May  17. 

I  HAVE  already  made  a  great  many  acquaint 
ances,  but  none  with  whom  I  form  a  society. — The 
people  of  the  place  arc  very  much  attached  to  me, 
but  why  I  cannot  tell : — they  are  desirous  of  sharing 
in  my  walks,  and  hence  I  feel  sorry  when  we  are 
forced  to  separate. — In  reply  to  your  question,  re- 
specting the  sort  of  people  I  meet  with  here,  I  can 
only  say,  that  they  are  of  the  same  kind  which 
every  other  place  produces. — The  work  of  nature  in 
this  respect  is  extremely  uniform;  all  the  difference 
originates  in  circumstances.  By  far  the  larger  mass 
of  mankind  are  compelled  to  toil  through  the  longest 
part  of  their  lives  for  a  poor  pittance,  and  what  re 
mains  unoccupied,  seems  so  tedious,  that  they  with 
as  great  industry  dispose  of  it  another  way- -this  is 
the"  lot  of  mortals  ! — Yet  do  net  think  that  I  am  out 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


of  humour  with  my  newly  acquired  companions. — 
No  !  Let  the  haughty  think  that  I  am  letting  myself 
down ;  while  in  reality  I  am  7'ising  above  them,  by 
becoming  a  guest  at  the  cheerful  tabic,  where  a  sin- 
cere welcome  and  innocent  mirth  preside,  or  by 
taking  a  walk, a  dance,  or  joining  in  their  festive 
sport,  when  it  suits  my  humour  :  sometimes  indeed 
it  abridges  the  pleasure  I  should  otherwise  feel, 
when  I  am  compelled  to  avoid  them,  that  they  may 
be  less  conscious  of  their  inferior  endowments ; — 
then  follows  the  dear  remembrance  of  my  deceased 
friend  (Leonora,)  the  friend  of  my  younger  years — 
the  friend  whom  I  have  known  only  to  weep  for — 
How  bitter  is  the  thought!  Every  thing  flourished 
while  she  lived  ;  but,  alas !  now  she  is  cut  down, 
and  confined  to  the  silent  grave,  while  I  am  left. — 
The  world  is  to  me  a  desert — but  hold — enough  of 
this ! 

A  few  days  back  the  accomplished  Mr.  B  , 

and  I  fell  into  company.  He  is  a  young  man,  pos 
sessed  of  a  pleasing  countenance,  and  has  recently 
quitted  the  college  of  Upsal ;  he  is  learned  without 
ostentation,  and  I  am  certain  cannot  be  ignorant  of 
his  advantage  over  many  with  whom  he  is  familiar ; 
3'et  I  think  his  genius  is  not  so  great  as  his  intense 
study.  Directly  he  knew  that  I  was  acquainted 
with  the  Greek,  and  an  admirer  of  the  pencil,  he 
came  to  see  me:  these  acquirements  are  looked  upon 
as  miracles  in  this  uninformed  place. — As  our  con- 
versation expanded,  he  displayed  his  whole  stock  of 
erudition,  with  the  authors  whom  he  had  studied. 
He  said  he  had  read  the  first  part  of  Saltzer's  Theory, 
and  had  by  him  a  MS.  of  Heynes  on  the  Study  of 
Antiquities : — for  these  reasons  the  time  he  staid 
passed  on  very  agreeably. 

Here  is  also  another  excellent  character,  whose 
company  I  have  obtained  :  He  is  a  steward  to  the 
prince,  and  of  a  mind  sufficiently  liberal  and  ele- 
vated to  demand  the  esteem  of  every  one.  His 


I 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


eldest  daughter  (Charlotte)  is  considered  as  an  excel- 
lent girl.  He  has  nine  children,  and  report  speaks 
highly  of  the  innocent  scene  when  he  is  surrounded 
by  his  sportive  cherubs. — He  has  pressed  me  to  visit 
him,  and  I  do  not  intend  that  his  kindness  shall  be 
lost  upon  me. — He  dwells  about  a  league  and  a  half 
off,  in  a  neat  country  box,  a  present  from  the  prince 
on  the  decease  of  his  beloved  lady,  that  his  melan- 
choly might  be  diverted  by  a  change  of  residence. 
Here  also  I  have  encountered  several  empty  charac- 
ters, who  form  a  disgusting  contrast  to  those  I  have 
enumerated  : — some  have  thrust  themselves  into  my 
private  retirement,  and  others  have  been  as  nauseat- 
ing by  overstrained  ceremony  and  unscught-for  offers 
of  service. 

LETTER  VII. 

May  22. 

HUMAN  existence  is  said  to  be  a  dream,  and  I 
accord  with  the  opinion,  if  I  take  a  survey  of  the 
narrow  limits  by  which  the  busy  mind  of  man  is 
bounded  :  if  I  consider  that  he  exerts  ail  Iiis  ener- 
gies to  obtain  support,  as  the  means  of  prolonging 
his  miserable  life,  that  his  wishes  to  be  better  in- 
formed terminate  in  a  blind  submission,  and  that  his 
greatest  enjoyment  is  to  decorate  the  sides  of  his 
prison  with  fanciful  images  and  delusive  landscapes, 
notwithstanding  the  boundary  he  is  chained  to  is  so 
close  to  his  sight:  these  are  rejections,  my  friend, 
which  check  my  impulse  ! — I  commence  a  deeper 
train  of  thought,  and  prcbe  the  breast — and  what  do 
I  obtain  ? — Still  shadows  which  are  imaginary — mere 
idle  superstitions,  mere  empty  fancies,  but  nothir  g 
of  certainty,  of  stability,  and  of  truth — All  is  a 
chaos;  but  I  float  down  the  current  of  folly,  which 
bears  the  rest  of  the  world  along,  and  this  adds  to 
the  number  of  dosing  idiots — It  seems  to  be  agreed 
among  the  learned  that  children  are  not  guided  by 
motives  ;  but  they  cannot  admit,  though  to  me  it  ap 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


pears  a  self-evident  fact,  that  full-groion  infants,  as 
well  as  when  they  were  in  childhood,  pass  on  through 
their  existence,  alike  uninformed  of  their  origin  and 
destination,  and  without  any  concerted  rule  of  con- 
duct, except  the  prospect  of  reward,  or  the  fear  of 
punishment ;  or  they  are  influenced,  like  them,  by 
the  operation  of  a  tart  or  a  rod.— It  is  easy  to  foresee 
what  my  friend  will  urge  in  answer,  and  I  am  will- 
ing to  admit  that  those  mortals  taste  the  most  pure 
enjoyment  who,  like  children,  never  think  of  the  fu- 
ture, but  are  satisfied  at  the  present  moment  with  a 
feast  and  a  toy;  who  cry  for  what  they  want,  and  as 
soon  as  they  have  got  it,  cry  for  more — Happy  souls 
who  are  gratified  with  trifles  ! — But  some  are  c»rved? 
because  the  natural  bent  of  their  minds  is  indulged 
with  paltry  authorities  and  high-sounding  titles ! 
who  hold  themselves  to  be  deities  among  mortals,— 
the  lords  of  the  universe  ! — He,  however,  who  knows 
the  real  value  of  all  sublunary  things,  who  feels  his 
own  insignificance,  appreciates  the  folly  of  all  this, 
and  observes  with  an  appropriate  greatness  of  soul 
that  the  wealthy,  whose  aim  is  to  make  the  present 
world  their  paradise,  and  the  indigent,  whose 
daily  employment  is  to  toil  for  the  wants  of  life, 
are  alike  interested  in  endeavouring  to  obtain  a 
longer  view  of  that  scene,  under  which  they  are  so 
differently  supported. — Yet  he  may  rest  in  peace, 
happy  in  possessing  the  title  of  a  man,  who  al- 
though his  circle  is  contracted  here,  is  sensible  he 
enjoys  in  mind  the  consoling  assurance  of  liberty, 
which,  when  his  imprisonment  is  the  most  op- 
pressive, furnishes  him  with  a  key  that  can  unlock 
(he  gate  of  his  dungeon. 

LETTER  VIII. 

May  26. 

YOU  haire  heard  me  say  that  certain  places  are 
more  pleasant  to  me  than  others.    I  mean  the  re- 
treats ©f  solitude  ;  that  I  like  to  wander  among  such 
B 


TO 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


scenes,  and  adapt  ihem  to  my  particular  inclina- 
tion. There  is  a  cottage  here  which  quite  coincides 
with  my  wishes,  and  is  situated  about  a  league  from 
the  city,  in  the  district  of  Walheim,  on  the  ascent 
of  a  most  luxuriant  hill,  which  commands  a  pros- 
pect of  the  whole  adjacent  country.  There  is  also 
a  good  old  landlady,  of  an  eccentric  disposition,  to 
whom  I  must  be  indebted  for  my  liquors,  and  coffee, 
and  tea.  What,  however,  gives  my  eye  a  great 
pleasure  is,  two  lime-trees,  fronting  the  church, 
whose  wide-spreading  branches  yield  a  charming 
shade  to  a  neat  grass-jdot,  round  which  several 
rural  hovels  are  erected.  At  my  request,  the  good- 
natured  ancient  damo  sends  me  a  chair  and  a  table, 
and  thus,  in  this  reflecting  retreat,  I  can  sip  coffee, 
and  peruse  my  Homer.  I  was  conducted  by  chance 
to  this  spot,  which  had  been  quite  neglected  till  I 
saw  it  in  one  of  my  afternoon  rambles.  It  was  a  de- 
lightful day — the  rustics  were  in  a  field  at  labour, 
and  no  one  but  a  little  boy,  about  four  years  old,  was 
there  ;  he  was  nursing  an  infant  in  its  sixth  month, 
clasping  the  little  angel  to  his  bosom,  and  forming  a 
seat  for  it  on  his  lap  :  and  though  his  sharp  sloey 
eyes  ran  over  all  the  green,  he  did  not  once  attempt 
to  alter  his  position,  lest  he  might  awaken  his  infant 
charge.  Attracted  by  this  scene  of  innocent  atten- 
tion, I  took  a  seat  on  a  plough  directly  opposite ; 
and,  full  of  the  most  pleasing  ideas,  drew  out  my 
pencil  and  sketched  this  impressive  picture  of  bro- 
therly tenderness.  To  give  it  a  rustic  effect,  I  threw 
in  the  view  of  a  distant  hedge,  a  barn-door,  and  a 
few  implements  of  agriculture  ;  I  worked  at  it  for  an 
hour,  and  then  found  that  my  sketches  had  formed 
a  picture  of  strong  character,  and  masterly  arrange- 
ment, though  I  had  exerted  no  fancy  in  forming  it. 
Before  this,  I  had  formed  a  resolution  to  adhere 
only  to  nature,  that  simple,  inexhaustible  mistress, 
who  is  ever  presenting  the  painter  and  the  poet  with 
something  new,  and  can  best  augment  the  esteem  of 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


11 


their  productions.  To  lay  down  rules  for  these  are 
as  inefficacious  as  those  which  regulate  society  ;  for, 
though  an  artist,  it  may  be  concluded,  will  never  dis- 
grace his  canvass  by  any  very  bad  or  offensive  pro- 
duction, any  more  than  the  man  who  is  kept  in  check 
by  the  force  of  laws  and  the  bias  of  education,  will 
commit  any  flagrant  act  against  the  community  or 
his  neighbour:,  yet,  however  strong  the  argument 
in  support  of  rules,  they  are  the  things  which  distort 
and  injure  the  pure  unadulterated  traits  of  nature's 
countenance.  You  may  perhaps  urge  that  rules  lop 
off  excrescences  and  remove  deformities — yet  are 
they  still  the  fetters  of  genius,  and  the  destroyers  of 
those  masterly  touches  which  the  faults  they  may 
correct  are  b)r  no  means  an  adequate  compensation 
for.  In  a  comparison  between  genius  and  love,  let 
us  suppose,  my  friend,  that  a  young  man,  whose 
mind  is  attracted  by  a  blooming  female,  devotes  his 
whole  thoughts  to  the  lovely  object,  pays  her  every 
respect,  employs  all  his  energies,  and  urges  all  his 
rhetoric,  to  convince  her  that  she  is  the  sole  object 
of  his  affection.  After  this  a  philosopher  enters — 
one  whose  character  is  highly  esteemed,  and  who 
reasons  thus: — Believe  me,  my  young  friend,  love  is 
a  passion  which  has  its  source  in  nature,  cut  yet  it 
must  be  kept  under  by  proper  restrictions.  The 
time  of  your  sojournment  in  this  mortal  state  should 
be  usefully  employed,  and  only  your  idle  hours  be 
occupied  in  courting  your  mistress.  Take  care  also, 
that  your  presents  be  according  to  what  you  can  af- 
ford, and  those  only  at  certain  intervals.  Were  the 
young  man  capable  of  embracing  this  wise  counsel, 
his  understanding  would  be  universally  commended, 
but  his  love  would  evaporate  to  a  mere  vapour! — 
the  fetters  which  are  thus  imposed  upon  the  lover 
equally  apply  to  the  painter;  he  may  design  mathe- 
matically, but  he  will  have  no  sublimity.  Genius 
is  a  current,  the  waters  of  which  would  inevitably 
break  down  its  banks,  ami  astonish  the  beholder, 


12 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


were  it  not  for  the  obstructions  of  some  narrow- 
minded  artists,  who  guard  the  shores,  and  repel  the 
swelling  exuberance  ;  behind  these  they  have  built 
seats  and  raised  gardens  ;  yet,  depressed  by  the  su- 
periority of  others,  they  are  indebted  to  moats  and 
dams  for  the  defence  of  their  regular  productions, 
and  thus  they  preserve  themselves  from  destruction 
by  shutting  out  merit. 


LURED  by  the  fancy  I  was  in  for  imagery  and 
delineation,  I  quite  lost  sight  of  the  narrative  I  in- 
tended to  proceed  with. — 1  remained  seated  upon 
the  plough,  enveloped  with  those  picturesque  ideas 
with  which  I  had  filled  my  epistle.  In  the  evening, 
a  young  woman  with  a  small  hand-basket  came  to 
look  after  the  children,  who  remained  in  much  the 
same  posture. — "  You  are  a  good  boy,  Philip,"  she 
cried  out,  as  she  approached. — Seeing  that  her  eye 
had  caught  mine,  I  arose  and  asked  if  these  charm 
ing  infants  were  her's  ? — she  answered  with  an  af 
firmative  nod ;  and  then  drawing  out  a  cake  for  the 
elder,  she  took  the  babe  into  her  arms,  clasped  it  t<? 
her  bosom,  and  kissed  it  with  all  the  fondness  of  a 
mother. — "Tins  little  one,  Sir,"  said  she,  "I  wa? 
obliged  to  trust  to  the  care  of  his  brother,  while  ] 
went  to  town  with  my  other  son  to  buy  scm<? 
bread,  sugar,  and  tiiis  pipkin  to  boil  the  little  oneV 
supper  in  ;  for  my  eldest  rogue  cracked  the  othei 
yesterday,  while  contending  with  Philip  about  some 
pudding  that  was  left  in  it." — This  led  me  to  in 
quire  who  the  eldest  son  was,  and  just  as  she  wa? 
saying  that  he  was  driving  a  few  geese  home  ovei 


bearing  in  his  hand  a  hazel  stick  for.  his  brother. — 
In  conversation  I  soon  learned  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  the  village  schoolmaster,  and  that  her 
husband,  on  the  death  of  his  uncle,  had  set  off  for 


LETTER  IX. 


May  27. 


along,  and 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


Holland  to  recover  an  estate ;  adding,  as  his  letters 
respecting  that  property  were  never  answered,  he 
suspects  all  is  not  fair,  and  has  therefore  thought  it 
necessary  to  undertake  the  journey,  since  which  I 
have  not  heard  from  him.  I  felt  uncomfortable  at 
parting  from  this  worthy  woman,  and  gave  to  each 
of  the  children  a  halfpenny  to  buy  a  cake,  after 
which  we  separated. — Believe  me,  my  friend,  I 
know  of  nothing  which  can  more  contribute  to  lull 
the  disquiet  mind  to  rest,  than  the  view  of  a  being 
so  contented  and  unassuming;  who  serenely  glides 
round  the  limited  circle  of  her  sphere ;  who  makes 
the  present  moment,  happy,  and  disregards  the  past 
and  the  future.  Night  succeeds  day  without  exci- 
ting her  interest,  and  the  autumnal  leaves  convey  no 
other  idea  to  her  mind  than  the  approximation  of 
winter. 

Since  the  above,  I  have  frequently  repaired  to  the 
same  spot,  and  have  been  quite  intimate  with  the 
little  folks — I  give  them  a  lump  of  sugar  when  I  am 
taking  coffee,  and  at  night  they  partake  of  my  whey 
and  bread  and  butter.  Every  Sunday  I  present  each 
with  a  creutzcr,  and  if  I  should  be  at  my  devotion 
when  they  come,  the  hostess  has  orders  to  bestow 
their  gratuity;  thus  I  have  obtained  a  high  place  in 
their  opinion,  and  am  the  master  of  all  their  little 
secrets  and  wishes  !  their  simplicity  is  at  all  times 
interesting,  but  more  so  when  they  mix  with  their 
playmates. — Their  attentive  parent  at  first  was  un 
easy  lest  they  should  intrude  ;  but  I  overruled  this, 
and  not  without  some  persuasion,  at  length  induced 
her  to  let  them  enjoy  themselves  with  me  in  their 
own  way,  apart  from  all  restraint. 

LETTER  X. 

May  30. 

THE  opinions  which  I  formerly  gave  on  painting 
are  equally  applicable  to  poetry,  in  which  the  chief 
requisites  are  a  knowledge  of  the  beautiful,  clothed 
Bb 


14 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


in  an  appropriate  verbal  dress.  A  subject  has 
offered  itself  to  me  this  day  which  would  make  ex- 
cellent materials  for  an  eclogue ;  but  why  are  de- 
scriptive or  pastoral  pieces  to  be  told  only  in  rhyme  ? 
Are  the  wonders  of  nature  to  be  confined  solely  to 
verse  and  measure  ? 

From  the  manner  in  which  I  have  begun  this 
letter,  you  may,  perhaps,  be  induced  to  expect  some 
sublime  effusion — but  you  will  be  disappointed  ;  for 
all  these  lively  thoughts  have  their  origin  in  a  mere 
rustic:  but.  according  to  my  usual  custom,  I  will 
endeavour,  in  my  imperfect  manner,  to  display  the 
cause  of  them,  which  you,  as  is  your  general  cus- 
tom, will  denominate  too  highly  coloured — and  all 
a  tale  of  the  village  of  Walheim ! — A  few  inhabit- 
ants of  that  place  had  made  a  party  to  drink  coffee, 
under  the  umbrageous  lime-trees,  but  not  being 
partial  to  the  company,  T  absented  myself,  by  making 
a  handsome  excuse.  The  same  plough,  which  had 
before  been  a  subject  of  my  pencil,  had  received  a 
fracture,  and  a  lad,  who  resided  near  the  spot,  was 
busily  employed  in  repairing"  it.  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  manner  which  induced  me  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  him,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
he  yielded  me  his  confidence ;  and  informed  me  of 
his  situation  in  life,  which  was  that  of  a  servant,  in 
the  employ  of  a  widowed  mistress,  of  whom  he 
spoke  with  heartfelt  eulogium  ;  indeed,  I  could  easily 
perceive  that  his  service  was  almost  a  perfect  free- 
dom. He  signified  that  she  was  past  the  meridian 
of  life,  and  had  been  indifferently  treated  by  her 
husband,  whence  she  had  resolved  never  to  enter 
the  holy  state  again.  While  he  spoke,  his  lips 
breathed  such  a  purity  of  intention,  such  a  sin- 
cerity of  desire  to  remunerate  her  for  the  conjugal 
misery  she  had  been  condemned  to  endure,  that  it 
would  require  a  large  scope  of  energetic  language  to 
paint  the  zeal  of  his  genuine  good-will  ;  but  the  sub- 
limity cf  ; -.en  v  c:.;i!;;  r;1.  :iie  do. justice  to  the  man- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


15 


ner,  the  looks,  which  gave  energy  to  every  word. 
To  describe  the  latter  is  impossible — my  friend  can 
more  readily  conceive  than  portray  that  which  sur- 
passes my  ability. 

While  he  avowed  his  passion  for  the  good  widow, 
lie  evinced  a  considerable  share  of  anxiety  for  her 
reputation;  endeavouring  to  do  away  any  impres- 
sion I  might  have  conceived  to  her  disadvantage,  by 
expatiating  in  the  artless  strains  of  true  fondness 
(the  recollection  is  still  delightful  to  me)  upon  her 
perfections,  and  by  assuring  me  that  though  her 
youth  was  no  more,  her  charms  were  not  diminished. 
He  seemed  animated  by  such  a  sincere  love  as  I 
had  never  before  witnessed;  certainly  it  was  the 
produce  of  a  virtuous  bosom.  Perhaps  my  friend 
(nay  laugh  at  me,  when  I  confess  how  much  I  was 
delighted  with  such  a  rare  instance  of  disinterested- 
ness and  fidelity.  Indeed,  so  deeply  warmed  was  I 
with  his  simple  confessions,  that  sometimes  I  feel  as 
if  Iiis  love  had  been  transplanted  into  my  own  breast. 
I  mean  soon  to  see  this  extraordinary  female — yet 
it  might  be  more  prudent  to  avoid  her.  What  he 
describes  with  so  much  animation,  may  be  charm 
less  and  uninspiring  to  me.  Though  I  have  im- 
bibed her  admirer's  ideas,  I  may  not  see  with  his 
eyes — then  will  all  the  beauties  of  fancy  fade  away; 
and  all  the  satisfaction  I  now  feel  will  cease  to  afford 
me  enjoy  men  L 

LETTER  XI. 

May  30.^ 

YOU  ask  me  "  why  I  do  not  continue  to  write  r" 
— You  might,  if  you  had  been  shrewd,  have  an- 
swered that  question  yourself,  by  supposing  that  I 
was  at  ease — or  had  found  another,  a  dearer  friend 
— that  I  had  become  intimate  with — one  whom  I 
scarcely  know. 

To  enter  into  a  minute  detail  of  all  the  little 
events  by  which  1  became  acquainted  with  the  most 


16 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


enchanting  of  women,  would  be  an  irksome  labour — 
It  is  sufficient  that  I  am  blessed — happy  in  the  ex- 
treme— and  therefore  much  too  elevated  for  a  mere 
historian.  She  is  a  celestial,  a  divinity  ! — but  these 
are  titles  every  lover  bestows  on  his  mistress — She  is 
a  masterpiece, — but  whence  that  superiority  arises, 
nor  how  much  I  am  enraptured  with  it,  I  can  nei- 
ther describe  nor  relate.  O  what  simplicity,  united 
with  the  most  lucid  comprehension — what  affability 
with  animation — what  spirits — mildness — but  I  think 
every  phrase  too  weak  to  convey  an  adequate  idea 
of  such  excellence — At  a  future  time  I  may — no, 
let  me  seize  the  present,  since  I  may  never  enjoy  a 
second  opportunity — In  fact,  from  the  moment  I 
began  to  write,  I  haAe  been  several  times  on  the 
point  of  throwing  away  my  pen,  and  flying  to  meet 
her — I  was  resolved  this  morning  to  stay  at  home, 
and  yet  I  have  been  continually  looking  through  the 
window  to  see  if  the  sun  had  risen. 

I  have  yielded  to  the  impulse  I  could  not  resist, — 
have  been  to  visit  her, — and  have,  it  is  true,  my 
friend,  just  returned;  therefore,  while  I  take  break- 
fast, I  will  proceed  with  my  letter. — I  saw  her  with 
her  charming  little  brothers  and  sisters — beheld  her 
— delightful  spectacle  ! — but  metbinks  you  will  be 
no  wiser  when  I  have  finished  than  when  I  com- 
menced, if  I  proceed  in  this  disjointed  manner — 1 
must  repel  this  inclination  to  rhapsody,  and  speak  on 
the  subject  with  greater  regularity — Let  me,  there- 
fore, entreat  your  attention  to  the  following. 

I  have  before  written  you  an  account  of  my  inti 
macy  with  the  steward  of  the  prince,  and  the  gene- 
ral invitation  he  gave  to  his  little  empire,  a  term  not 
ill  adapted  to  his  present  seclusion. — Frovn  one  cau^e 
or  another,  my  intended  visit  remaine.3  at  last  so 
long  unpaid,  that  I  probably  should  have  relin 
quished  the  idea  of  ever  carrying  it  into  effect,  had 
not  mere  accident  presented  to  me  a  sight  of  the 
treasure  which  this  sequestered  spot  contained.— 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


17 


In  compliance  with  the  wish  of  some  of  the  young 
town's  people  I  agreed  to  make  one  with  them  at  a 
rural  fete,  and  a  young  lady  was  to  accompany  me 
as  my  partner,  who  possessed  some  beauty,  and 
was  passingly  agreeable. — We  settled  it  to  take  ray 
partner  and  a  relation  of  hers  in  a  coach,  and  in  our 
way  we  were  to  call  for  Charlotte,  who  was  to  fa- 
vour the  company  with  her  presence  at  the  ball. — 
As  we  proceeded  through  the  avenue  in  face  of  the 
steward's  house,  my  partner  informed  me  that  in 
the  person  of  Charlotte  I  should  behold  a  very  fine 
and  interesting  girl,  and  she  promised  to  introduce 
me  ;  "  Let  me  only  caution  you,"  said  the  relative, 
u  to  beware  of  her  fascinating  powers  !" — "  Why 
so  ?"  retorted  I  briskly.  "  Because,"  answered  my 
partner,  "  she  is  firmly  engaged  to  a  deserving  young 
gentleman,  whose  father  being  recently  dead,  he 
is  gone  to  arrange  his  affairs,  and  endeavour  to  ob- 
tain a  place  at  court !"  'I  heard  all  this  with  indif- 
ference ;  I  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  excellence  of 
Leonora,  and  since  her  death  I  had  never  seen  the 
woman  who  could  interest  my  bosom. — The  sun  had 
descended  behind  the  mountains  fey  the  time  we  had 
arrived  at  the  house  ;  the  air  became  very  warm, 
and  thick  leaden  clouds  overspreading  the  hori- 
zon, indicated  a  storm  was  approaching.  The  la- 
dies foresaw  that  the  threatening  atmosphere  would 
put  a  stop  to  the  ball,  and  were  anxiously  con- 
cerned lest  their  gratification  should  be  put  off. — 
With  an  air  of  philosophic  inspection  I  endeavoured 
to  dissipate  their  fears,  by  assuring  them  that  T 
could  venture  to  predict  it  would  be  only  a  passing 
cloud,  and  would  soon  blow  over. — I  had  alighted, 
when  a  servant  came  and  begged  we  would  wait  a 
moment  for  her  mistress — I  then  crossed  the  court 
of  this  tranquil  abode,  and  went  up  a  few  steps  to 
the  hall,  in  which  were  six  lovely  children,  (the 
eldest  eleven,  and  the  youngest  about  two  years  of 
*|pfi]  playing  about  a  young  ladv,  of  a  middling 


13 


.SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


height,  but  of  a  form  the  most  exquisite  that  can  be 
conceived,  dressed  in  white,  ornamented  with  pale 
pink  ribbons.  She  was  supplying  the  little  cherubs 
with  bread  and  butter  from  a  loaf  she  held  in  her 
hand,  winch  she  distributed  in  pieces  adapted  to 
their  size,  and  that  with  the  most  winning  and  af- 
fectionate grace. — Their  innocent  hands  were  alter- 
nately holden  up  for  the  piece  as  it  was  cut  off. 
each  crying  on  receiving  it,  "Thank  you,  thank 
you !"  they  then  ran  across  the  court  to  have  a  look 
at  the  ladies  and  the  carriage  which  was  to  take 
their  Charlotte  away. — The  latter,  on  seeing  me 
wait,  in  the  sweetest  manner  apologized  for  the  de- 
lay ;  "  Indeed,  Sir,"  said  she,  "  I  am  sorry  you  have 
had  the  trouble  to  alight,  and  that  the  ladies  should 
be  detained,  but  in  my  eagerness  to  be  dressed  in 
time,  I  quite  overlooked  some  indispensable  house- 
hold concerns,  and  these  little  ones  lose  half  their 
relish  for  supper  unless  I  cut  it  for  them." — I  made 
a  reply,  but  I  cannot  tell  what  it  was — her  voice, 
her  address,  and  her  expression,  had  so  ravished 
me. — I  was  in  this  stupor  of  delight  and  astonish- 
ment, when  she  ran  into  an  adjoining  appartment  to 
get  her  fan  and  gloves.  The  little  ones  took  ad 
vantage  of  her  absence  to  steal  a  look  at  me,  and  to 
whisper  to  each  other  ;  upon  which  I  approached 
the  youngest,  whose  face  was  full  of  the  most  lively 
expression  ;  he  was  about  to  run  from  mc  just  as 
Charlotte  returned,  who  said  to  him,  "Come,  my 
Louis,  you  surely  are  not  afraid  of  your  cousin  r" 
This  removed  all  his  fears,  and  he  shook  my  hand 
with  a  smack,  which  I  returned  with  a  kiss — I  then 
conducted  her  to  the  coach,  repeating  as  we  went, 
"  Cousin  !  why  so  ?  Am  I  to  consider  myself  worthy 
the  honour  of  being  your  relation  ?"  With  an  arch 
smile  she  replied,  "  You  must  know,  Sir,  that  I 
have  several  coiuins,  and  it  would  hurt  me  to  think 
that  you  were  the  least  estinable  among  them." — As 
ehe  took  her  leave,*  sT.c  direfted  the  eldest  girl, 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


19 


Sophia,  to  be  attentive  to  her  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  when  her  father  came  home,  not  to  let  him  be 
alone ;  she  then  gave  a  charge  to  the  other  little 
ones  to  mind  as  much  what  their  sister  Sophia  said 
to  them,  as  if  she  herself  were  there,  which  they 
all  promised  to  do,  except  a  sprightly  little  girl, 
about  six  years  old,  who  gloomingly  replied,  "  Ah  ! 
but  sister  Sophia  and  sister  Charlotte  are  not  the 
same  ;  we  love  sister  Charlotte  the  best!" — While 
this  was  passing,  the  two  eldest  boys  had  mounted 
the  footboard  behind  the  coach,  and  I  succeeded 
with  Charlotte  in  obtaining  permission  for  them  to' 
retain  their  places  to  the  end  of  the  forest,  if  they 
would  behave  quietly  and  keep  themselves  safe 
from  harm:  we,  however,  had  hardly  taken  our 
seats,  and  some  mutual  civilities  had  passed  be- 
tween the  ladies,  when  Charlotte  bid  the  coachman 
to  stop,  and  in  a  sweet  manner  entreated  her  bro- 
thers not  to  go  any  farther :  they  instantly  com- 
plied, and  she  extended  her-  hand  for  them  to  take 
a  parting  kiss  :  the  eldest  pressed  it  with  all  the 
sensibility  of  a  lad  of  fifteen,  and  the  younger  one 
displayed  ail  the  expression  consonant  with  hia 
years.  After  enjoining  them  to  carry  her  love  to 
the  rest,  the  coach  drove  on. — Charlotte  was  now 
asked  by  the  lady,  the  relation  of  my  partner,  how 
she  approved  of  the  book  which  she  had  last  lent 
her? — to  which  the  former  replied,  that  she  thought 
no  better  of  it  than  the  one  she  before  sent  her,  and 
therefore  she  should  return  it  without  delay. — 
On  inquiring  the  title,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  that 
it  was  1  The 'Castle  of  Otranto.'— In  every  thing  that 
Charlotte  »aid,  I  traced  a  profound  judgment  and 
acuteness — each  word  was  appropriate,  and  every 
iook  penetrating  ; — an  extraordinary  lustre,  I  re- 
marked, overspread  her  fine  features  when  I  ac- 
corded with  her  opinion. — "  When  I  was  younger, 
romances  were  all  my  taste,"  said  Charlotte — 
*  then  my  chief  delight  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  was 


2C 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


to  withdraw  to  the  most  lonely  chamber,  and 
indu'ge  in  the  perusal  of  one  of  the  wonderful 
stories ;  in  a  short  time,  however,  this  appetite  for 
the  unnatural  was  clogged,  and  the  domtstic  »cene 
took  place  of  the  other.  Here  I  was  alive  to  the 
misfortunes  or  happiness  in  which  the  heroine  was 
placed,  and  never  shall  I  be  weary  of  such  works 
as  Sir  Charles  Grandison  and  Clarissa  Harlowe.  My 
leisure  for  reading  is  now  so  much  abridged,,  that  I 
have  no  wish  to  penetrate  into  other  scenes  than 
.  those  to  which  I  am  accustomed.  The  writer  ,  who 
copy  nature  have  my  preference,  for  they  present 
those  domestic  endearments,  and  affectionate  dis- 
plays, which  are  the  pictures  I  every  day  see  mi  my 
own  family." 

The  mcontrovertibilily  of  every  sentence  sh« 
uttered  charmed  me,  and  I  could  scarcely  repress 
the  violence  of  my  emotions  ; — my  bosom  burnt 
with  ardency,  and  I  tremble  lest  the  flame  should 
consume  me.  She  next  proceeded  to  criticise  on 
other  works,  and  among  the  rest  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field ;  but  here,  as  before,  she  displayed  such  ac- 
curacy and  discernment,  that  I  could  not  refrain 
from  exhibiting  my  testimony  of  approbafcion  in  a 
manner  that  must  have  beea  »oticed  ;  but  my  mind 
was  abstracted  from  every  other  object  in  the 
coach  ;  while  it  only  saw  and  dwelt  upon  her,  she 
directed  her  conversation  to  the  ladies,  one  o|" 
whom,  my  partners  relative,  directed  several  signi- 

I  ficant  regards  at  me,  by  which  1  could  plainly  read 
her  suspicions,  though  I  was  then  too  deeply  en- 
gaged to  take  any  notice  of  them. 

f  The  next  subject  introduced  was  dancing :  which 
Charlotte  approved  of  as  a  favourite  amusement, 
notwithstanding  h  was  condemned  by  maay; — ■ 
were  her  temper  raffled  by  any  vexatious  incident, 
she  had  only  to  repair  to  her  pianno-forte,  and  play 
over  a  few  country  dances,  and  the  internal  har- 
mony was  directly  restored.    Gracious  powers, how 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


did  my  eyes  dwell  upon  her  lips  as  she  spoke ! — 
Such  was  the  melody  of  her  voice,  that  the  words 
were  almost  lost  in  the  sweetness  of  her  modula- 
tion— her  piercing  eyes  and  elegant  demeanour 
absorbed  all  my  powers  of  admiration. — At  length 
the  coach  arrived  at  our  destination,  and  alighting 
in  a  paroxysm  of  rapture,  I  entered  the  assembly- 
room,  and  was  in  the  middle  of  it,  surrounded  by 
all  the  company,  before  I  was  conscious  that  I  had 
advanced  a  foot  ; — the  partners  of  Charlotte  and 
the  other  lady  were  waiting  at  the  door  ready  to 
receive  them ;  and  I,  after  their  example,  now  con- 
ducted my  partner  to  a  seat  in  the  assembly.  The 
ball  opened  with  minuets,  and  I  danced  with  seve- 
ral ladies  successively,  in  the  course  of  which  it 
occurred  to  me,  that  the  most  awkward  and  unhand- 
some were  the  least  willing  to  retire.  Charlotte 
and  her  partner  afterward  engaged  in  country 
dances  ;  and  O  !  my  friend,  how  animated  did  I  feel 
when  it  came  to  my  turn  to  perform  the  figure 
with  her — O!  that  you  could  but  see  her  dance! 
She  is  a  mistress  of  that  grace  and  agility  so  re- 
quisite for  the  accomplishment — her  form  is  light 
and  elegant — her  motion  elastic  and  uniform ! 

I  would  have  solicited  her  hand  for  the  succeed- 
ing dance,  had  she  not  assured  me  in  the  most 
affable  manner  that  she  was  engaged,  but  that  she 
was  at  liberty  for  the  third ;  at  the  same  time 
frankly  informing  me  that  the  allemande  was  her 
favourite  dance.  "  It  is  the  custom  here  (she  ob- 
served) for  each  couple  to  dance  an  allemande  ;  it 
is  however  what  my  partner  is  not  accustomed  to  ; 
he  therefore  is  desirous  of  being  excused,  and  I 
know  the  lady  whom  you  dance  with  is  not  partial 
to  it.  Your  manner  of  dancing  has  convinced  me 
that  you  can  perform  this  kind  of  amusement ;  let 
us  therefore  ask  this  indulgence  of  each  other's 
partner."    In  this  way  it  was  agreed  to,  and  while 


22  SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 

we  were  together  Charlotte's  partner  undertook  the 
care  of  mine. 

Having  commenced,  for  a  time  our  arms  were 
mutually  infolded !— Then  it  was  that  all  the  graces 
of  motion  and  gayety  were  exhibited  at  every  turn  ; 
but  when  the  rest  of  the  dancers  should  have  kept 
pace  with  the  change  of  time,  and  have  whirled 
each  other  round  a  spherical  velocity,  they  created 
some  confusion  by  the  inequality  of  their  motions. 
We,  however,  avoided  these  awkward  performers, 
by  keeping  on  one  side  till  they  had  passed,  and 
then  resuming  our  situations  with  another  couple, 
and  Charlotte's  late  partner  and  mine.  Dancing 
thus  in  that  perfection  which  I  loved,  I  felt  myself 
elevated  to  a  more  than  mortal  delight — I  pressed  in 
my  arms  the  most  lovely  of  womankind, — we  glided 
round  the  room  with  the  velocity  of  lightning,  and 
I  saw,  I  thought  of  no  other  object — Shall  I  avow 
the  rest,  my  friend? — It  was  at  that  time  that  I 
formed  the  determination  never  to  permit  the  fair 
one,  whom  I  esteemed  and  meant  to  make  my  wife, 
to  dance  an  allemande  with  any  other  man  than 
myself ; — and  I  here  declare — but  you  certainly  un- 
til rstand  what  I  would  say. 

Exhausted  for  want  of  breath,  we  now  took  seve- 
ral walks  round  the  room  to  recover  our  fatigue, 
and  then  Charlotte  sat  down.  I  brought  the  only 
oranges  remaining  from  the  sideboard,  at  which 
they  were  making  negus,  and  offered  the  timely  re- 
freshment to  Charlotte  ;  but  she  politely  presented 
them  to  a  lady  next  her,  who  made  free  with  the 
larger  part  of  them.  Ah  '  how  much  did  I  envy  this 
person,  though  a  female,  the  favour  she  had  received 
from  so  fair  a  hand  ! 

In  the  third  country-dance  we  were  the  second 
couple  ;  and  while  I  was  making  the  figure  with  my 
partner,  and  catching  at  every  turn  a  view  of  those 
animated  looks  and  aerial  motions,  which  showed 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


23 


now  much  ber  heart  was  in  the  amusement,  she  was 
observed  by  an  elderly  lady,  whose  agreeable  man- 
ners had  before  attracted  my  notice,  who,  smilingly, 
twice  raised  her  finger  at  Charlotte  ;  and  in  a  tone 
of  strong  emphasis  pronounced  the  name  of  Albert. 

"  Albert !"  exclaimed  I,  "  and  who,  pray,  is  Al- 
bert?"— Just  as  Charlottewas  about  to  gratify  my 
curiosity,  we  separated  in  forming  hands  six  round, 
and  I  observed,  as  she  was  opposite  to  me,  that  her 
countenance  looked  suddenly  dejected  : — I  repeated 
the  question  as  soon  as  we  had  joined  hands  again, 
and  she  replied,  "  It  is  wrong  to  conceal  the  truth  ! 
— Albert  is  a  worthy  young  gentleman,  to  whom 
my  hand  is  engaged."  It  now  occurred  to  me  that 
this  was  the  person  of  whom  the  ladies  had  told  me 
in  the  coach — but  it  was  then  indifferent  to  me — be- 
cause I  had  not  seen  Charlotte  ;  now,  at  her  mention- 
ing of  his  name,  theimbittering  remembrance  revived. 
It  overwhelmed  all  my  pleasure,  it  confused  me  so 
much  that  I  lost  sight  of  the  figure,  and  I  discon- 
certed the  company  by  my  mistakes  ;  till  the  easy 
address  of  Charlotte  conducted  us  to  our  proper 
stations. 

In  the  very  zenith  of  hilarity,  the  dance  was  sud- 
denly closed  by  a  tremendous  glare  of  lightning,  the 
threatening  indication  of  which  had  before  been 
observed  in  the  sky,  and  which  I  had  explained  to 
the  ladies  wras  only  the  transient  lowerings  of 
excessive  heat.  The  noise  of  the  instruments  was 
overpowered  by  the  rolling  thunder,  and  such  was 
the  fear  of  three  ladies,  that  they  departed  with 
their  partners ;  a  general  interruption  ensued,  and 
the  music  ceased  to  play.  The  sudden  change  from 
diversion  to  terror,  is  sure  to  heighten  the  effect  of 
the  latter ;  for  then  it  is  that  the  mind,  which  is 
widely  expanded  by  pleasure,  becomes  hastily  con- 
tracted by  unexpected  calamity,  and  its  susceptibi- 
lity to  the  influence  of  opposite  passions  is  rapidly 
increased.    Ir  was  natural  therefore  that  the  storm 


24 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


and  the  ladies'  terrors  should  augment  together — 
one  lady,  more  courageous  than  the  rest,  sat  with 
her  hack  to  the  window,  and  with  her  fingers  en- 
deavoured to  stop  out  the  noise  of  the  thunder,  as 
if  that  would  render  her  secure  while  the  lightning 
flashed  into  the  room — a  second  knelt  down  to  utter 
an  extempore  prayer,  and  hiding  her  face  in  the 
former's  lap  :  a  third  clung  fast  to  the  other  two, 
and  wept  most  audihly.  Some  were  for  going  home, 
and  others  so  frightened,  that  they  threw  them- 
selves into  the  arms  of  their  partners,  who  were 
revelling  with  delight  on  those  lips  which  were 
breathing  out  piteous  ejaculations  to  heaven.  The 
swains  who  were  less  gallant,  sat  down  to  the  en- 
joyment of  their  bottle  and  pipes,  till  at  length  the 
mistress  of  the  house  conducted  that  part  of  the 
company,  who  had  -still  some  reason  left,  to  an 
apartment  where  the  window-shutters  being  closed, 
the  lightning  was  almost  wholly  excluded.  Scarcely 
had  we  entered  when  Charlotte  arranged  the  chairs 
in  a  circle,  and  begging  us  to  be  seated,  proposed  to 
amuse  ourselves  by  playing  at  some  innocent  sport, 
which  was  received  in  a  very  stiff  manner  by  some, 
while  others  were  delighted  with  a  game  at  for- 
feits :  the  game  fixed  on  was  called  Aumho'ing, 
and  which  was  explained  to  us  in  this  manner  by 
Charlotte :  "  I  shall  proceed  round,"  said  slie, 
"  from  right  to  left — while  you  count  one  after  the 
other  progressively  as  quick  as  possible  ;  that  is,  the 
first  person  calls  one,  the  next  two,  the  next  three, 
and  so  on  ;  and  if  any  one  hesitate  or  say  a  wrong 
number,  the  party  shall  receive  a  box  on  the  ear.*' 
It  was  very  amusing  to  see  her  arms  extended,  as 
she  moved  round  the  circle,  while  the  numbers  one, 
two,  three,  &c.  were  pronounced  by  each  one  with 
a  rapidity  that  kept  pace  as  she  increased  hers, 
till  some  one  made  an  error,  and  was  honoured  with 
the  punishment  before  mentioned — a  laugh  entitled 
the  party  to  another  box,  and  tints  she  augmented 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


the  difficulty  by  making  her  revolutions  yet  more 
rapid.  I  received  two  boxes  for  my  blunders,  and 
what  gave  me  infinite  pleasure,  I  thought  she  made 
mine  harder  than  the  rest.  The  laughter  which  at 
intervals  tended  to  increase  the  difficulty  of  the 
play,  at  length  terminated  the  game,  long  before 
we  had  counted  as  far  as  a  thousand.  The  storm  had 
now  nearly  spent  its  force,  and  the  company  were 
forming  themselves  into  little  parties  ;  but  mine  was 
only  that  of  Charlotte,  whom  I  attended  into  the 
ball-room  ; — as  we  went  along,  she  remarked,  "That 
the  little  punishment  she  had  awarded  with  so 
much  liberality  to  some  of  the  company,  were 
only  meant  to  divert  their  attention  from  their 
fears ;  but  that,  as  to  herself,  while  she  affected  to 
be  courageous,  she  was  in  as  much  terror  as  the 
rest;  yet  it  had  served  the  purpose  of  keeping  up 
their  spirits  and  her  own.5'  We  placed  ourselves  at 
the  window — the  distant  thunder  still  rolled  faintly 
awful,  while  a  mild  rain  descended,  and  perfumed 
the  atmosphere  with  balmy  odours.  Charlotte  now 
reclined  her  head  upon  her  lovely  arm,  and  with  an 
eye  of  expression  that  ran  over  all  the  adjacent 
country,  which  then  was  lifted  up  towards  heaven, 
and  lastly  fixed  fully  on  me,  I  saw  her  shed  a  tear ! 
She  then  placed  her  hand  lightly  upon  mine,  and  in  a 
voice  of  ecstasy  exclaimed,  "  O  Klopstock."*  My 
heart  was  in  raptures  at  the  name — a  crowd  of  sen- 
sations burst  into  my  bosom — My  recollection  re- 
verted to  the  divine  poem  of  this  author,  and  my 
love  was  all  ardency  for  one  whose  taste  was  in  such 
unison  with  mine.  I  repeated  her  expression—"  O 
Klopstock !"  The  words  died  on  my  lips,  for  my 
spirits  were  sinking  ; — reposing  on  her  soft  hand,  J 
pressed  it  with  a  kiss  of  sympathy  and  fervour  ;  and 
while  my  eyes  beheld  hers  suffused  with  the  tears 
of  sensibility,  I  said,  "  Immortal  Klopstock !  Q 

*  The  author  of  a  beautiful  German  poem,  called  the  MessisthJ 

Cc  jA 


26 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


that  thou  couldst  read  thine  apotheosis  in  the  coun- 
tenance of  this  celestial  maid  ! — or  hear  thy  name, 
so  frequently  uttered  with  irreverence,  sounding 
from  her  mellifluous  voice : — Ah,  where  are  the 
lips  like  hers  which  should  he  suffered  to  pro- 
nounce it!" 

LETTER  XII. 

June  19. 

I  BROKE  off  in  my  last,  but  in  what  part  1  know 
not! — Alas,  my  friend,  I  have  forgot  what  I  was  be- 
fore treating  of.  All  I  can  now  remember  is,  that, 
after  reaching  home,  I  went  to  bed  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  had  my  friend  been 
there,  to  have  done  away  the  necessity  of  writing,  I 
believe  I  should  bave  sat  up  talking  till  breakfast. — 
Have  I  informed  you  of  what  passed  in  our  return 
from  the  assembly  ? — If  I  have  omitted  this,  it  will 
bear  repetition — but  you  will  excuse  me  at  present, 
as  another  time  will  answer  the  purpose  of  that 
friendship,  which  love  has  not  yet  effaced. — The 
morning  was  delightful,  the  storm  had  cleared  away 
every  mist — nature  seemed  to  revive  with  a  livelier 
gayety,  and  the  crystal  drops  softly  fell  from  the 
pending  branches. — Our  companions  had  all  sunk 
into  the  arms  of  sleep,  when  Charlotte  asked  if  I  was 
not  also  desirous  of  some  repose,  entreating  me  that 
her  presence  might  not  be  a  restraint  upon  me. — 
"  Ah  !"  replied  I,  while  I  looked  with  rapture  on 
her  angelic  countenance,  "  where  thou  art  I  cannot 
sleep — Tt  would  be  impossible  to  shut  my  eyes  while 
thine  were  open."  The  soft  blush  of  modesty  was 
diffused  over  her  cheeks,  which  in  a  moment  after 
resumed  their  pristine  bloom,  and  we  continued  in 
conversation  till  the  coach  reached  her  home,  when, 
upon  the  door  being  softly  opened  by  one  of  the 
domestics,  she  eagerly  inquired,  and  was  as  satisfac- 
torily assured,  that  the  family  were  all  in  bed,  and 
well.    At  taking  leave,  I  promised  not  to  make  it 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


27 


long  before  I  saw  her  again,  and  you  will  easily  be- 
lieve that  I  did  not  forfeit  my  word.  From  that 
day  I  have  ceased  to  regard  the  stars  and  the  flight 
of  time  ! — The  universe  is  a  blank  when  she  is  not 
by — but  with  her  it  is  a  paradise ! — Adieu,  my  friend, 
I  can  no  longer  withhold  from  seeing  her 

LETTER  XIII. 

June  21. 

I  NOW  positively  think  that  the  days  in  store  for 
the  blessed  cannot  pass  more  delectably  than  mine — 
whatever  may  prove  the  future  hours  of  my  life,  I 
must  acknowledge  that  I  enjoy  at  present  the  most 
perfect  serenity.  I  am  now  quite  settled  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Walheim,  at  a  distance  of  about  three  miles 
from  Charlotte;  and  surely  in  this  recluse  abode 
never  was  a  happy  man  more  blessed! — Iii  fixing 
casually  upon  this  spot  for  the  indulgence  of  soli- 
tude, could  I  have  imagined  that  it  cherished  such 
an  invaluable  jewel  ?  Often  have  I  strayed  by  that 
rural  residence,  unconscious  that  it  contained  her 
who  was  one  day  to  constitute  my  highest  delight — 
frequently  have  I  looked  at  it  from  the  mountain 
summit — frequently  from  the  meadow  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  river;  it  sometimes  occurs  to  me, 
that  man,  in  his  idle  pursuits,  overlooks  the  native 
riches  of  his  own  country,  and  sets  out  widely  in 
search  of  more  interesting  novelties  ;  but  these  soon 
cease  to  engage  his  attention  ;  and  as  they  weaken, 
he  again  sighs  for  the  pleasures  he  left  behind,  till  he 
finally  sinks  into  his  former  habits,  and  sits  down 
without  caring  any  farther  in  w  hat  manner  the  rest 
of  the  world  is  engaged.  I  felt  an  attraction  to  thia 
spot  the  first  time  that  I  beheld  it — to  its  charming 
scenery,  its  rich  woody  prospects,  its  mountainous 
and  rocky  heights.  I  wish  that  you  could  but  view 
them  ! — Yet  I  was  not  then  interested,  and  quitted 
them  with  the  same  listlessness  as  before.  Methinks 
that  space  and  futurity  are  synonymous — an  awful 


28 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


gloom  hovers  over  that  which  is  unexplored,  and  in 
which  the  mind  that  contemplates  is  bewildered  in 
obscurity — we  are  delighted  with  the  images  which 
fancy  forms  ;  we  pursue  them  with  anxiety,  till  the 
mask  is  thrown  off,  and  then  the  illusion  no  longer 
charms.  Similar  to  this  is  the  traveller,  who  has  for 
a  long  time  been  separated  from  his  cot,  his  wife, 
and  his  little  ones:  with  joy  he  returns  to  his  homely 
dwelling,  and  tastes  more  comforts  in  the  result  of 
domestic  duties  than  all  he  had  met  with  in  his  dis- 
tant journeys. 

I  am  quite  happy  in  my  recess — I  rise  with  the 
sun — I  gather  my  own  pease,  which  I  shell  as  I  sit 
and  read  Homer. — Then  I  put  them  into  the  pot, 
cover  them  with  the  Lid,  stir  them  if  they  boil,  and 
then  in  my  own  fancy  paint  the  lovers  of  Penelope, 
slaying  their  cattle  and  dressing  them. — How  sweet 
are  the  sensations  which  arise  from  a  review  of  the 
patriarchal  life  ;  and  surely  I  may  safely  assert  that 
such  a  mode  of  living  is  mine : — all  the  uncontami- 
nated  and  simple  delights  of  the  rustic  are  mine  ; 
who  sits  down  to  partake  of  the  cabbage  which  his 
hand  has  planted,  and  while  he  relishes  his  whole- 
some viands,  praises  its  sweetness,  thinks  on  the  fine 
morning  when  he  set  it,  the  calm  evening  when  he 
watered  it,  and  the  daily  pleasure  he  received  in 
seeing  it  grow,  and  come  to  perfection. 

LETTER  XIV. 

June  29. 

THE  day  before  yesterday  the  doctor  of  the  town 
paid  a  visit  to  the  steward. — I  was  at  that  time  at 
high 'romps  on  the  floor  with  the  children,  tickling 
and  playing  with  them,  and  a  fine  noise  we  made. 
The  doctor  is  the  very  emblem  of  formality  and  pre- 
cision, always  adjusting  his  ruffles  while  speaking, 
and  pulling  out  his  plaited  frill  when  he  has  done  ; 
of  course  he  thought  my  behaviour  was  extremely 
opposite  to  the  dignity  of  a  man. — His  look  suffi- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


ciently  indicated  this ;  but  it  was  not  in  the  power 
of  his  frown,  or  his  pompous  declamation,  to  inter- 
rupt my  rebuilding  the  card-houses  which  the  little 
folks  had  knocked  down.  Since  this,  the  physical 
gentleman  has  told  every  one  that  the  steward's 
children  were  rude  enough  before,  but  that  now  Wer- 
.er  would  be  the  entire  ruin  of  them. — Yes,  my 
friend,  children  are  my  delight,  and  next  to  Char- 
ctte  I  doat  on  them. — If  in  their  infant  minds  I 
liscern  the  germ  of  those  virtues  and  abilities  which 
it  a  future  period  are  to  be  their  directors — if  in  the 
fearless  I  anticipate  firmness  and  constancy — and  in 
the  volatile  that  vacancy  and  good-nature  which 
will  blunt  the  stings  of  fate,  and  level  the  rugged 
inequalities  they  will  meet  in  their  journey  through 
life — I  am  then  forcibly  reminded  of  the  divine 
words  of  our  great  Master,  "  Except  ye  be  like  one 
of  these  little  ones."  Yet,  my  friend,  is  it  not  a 
common  practice  to  overawe  children,  and  terrify 
those  who  may  prove  models  for  ourselves  ? — We 
rule  them  while  under  our  control  like  slaves,  and 
prohibit  them  the  indulgence  of  their  innocent  gra- 
tifications, while  we  unlimitedly  indulge  our  own. — 
Who  has  installed  us  with  this  exclusive  preroga- 
tive ?  Can  it  be  derived  from  a  greater  age  and  ex- 
perience ?  If  in  the  pages  of  holy  writ,  of  such  is 
said  to  be  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  yet  they  are  not 
as  such  esteemed  upon  earth. — They  are  the  same 
we  once  were,  and  such  as  those  to  come  must  be  !— 
No  more,  my  friend,  now,  lest  I  exhaust,  your  pa 
tience,  and  bewilder  myself. 

LETTER  XV. 

July  1. 

AN  esteemed  old  lady  in  the  town,  just  been 
given  over  by  her  physician,  has  expressed  a  wish 
that  Charlotte  should  be  present  with  her  in  her 
last  moments. — Obedient  to  the  pious  duty,  she  is 
gone,  and  few  I  believe  are  more  capable  of  pouring 


30 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


the  balm  of  consolation  into  the  wounded  bosom  ; — 
at  least  I  can  speak  experimentall}-. — We  went  last 
week  to  tho  Vicar  of  S  ,  who  lives  in  a  ham- 
let among  the  mountains,  about  three  miles  off. — 
We  were  accompanied  by  Sophia,  his  sister. — We  ar- 
rived about  four  in  the  afternoon;  and  on  our  going 
through  the  yard,  which  is  shaded  by  some  walnut- 
trees,  we  beheld  the  venerable  old  pastor  seated  on 
a  bench  before  his  door. — Spurning  his  decrepitude 
and  his  stick,  he  rose  at  the  sight  of  Charlotte  to 
meet  her,  but  she  sprang  forward  to  prevent  him  ; 
and  having  made  him  retake  his  seat,  placed  herself 
at  his  side. — The  tender  of  her  father's  best  respects 
being  made,  she  took  a  little  chubby  fellow,  the  old 
gentleman's  favourite,  and  began  to  kiss  him. — How 
much,  my  friend,  would  you  have  been  gratified, 
could  you  have  been  a  spectator  of  the  kind  atten- 
tion she  paid  to  the  ancient  vicar,  speaking  with  an 
elevation  of  voice  equal  to  his  deafness;  and,  to  en- 
courage him,  introducing  in  her  discourse  the  sud- 
den decease  of  several  young  and  hearty  persons  in 
the  very  prime  of  life;  then  extolling  the  sanative 
properties  of  the  Carelstadt  baths,  and  commending 
the  resolution  he  had  taken  of  visiting  them  the  fol- 
lowing summer  ;  to  all  which  she  joined  her  congra- 
tulations upon  seeing  him  so  visibly  altered  for  the 
better,  since  the  last  time  she  called  at  the  village. 
During  this,  I  directed  my  conversation  to  bis  lady, 
who  is  several  years  younger  than  her  husband. — 
The  old  gentleman  was  full  of  vivacity,  and  hearing 
me  praise  the  beauty  of  the  two  walnut-trees,  whose 
umbrageous  foliage  formed  such  a  canopy  over  our 
heads,  he  began  garrulously  to  enlarge  upon  their 
history.  "  I  cannot  now,"  said  he,  "  tell  how  the 
first  came  here,  as  some  say  it  was  set  by  a  clergy- 
man— others  by  his  successor — but  the  second,  in 
yonder  corner,  counts  the  same  number  of  years  as 
my  wife,  and  will  be  just  fifty  years  old  in  next  Oc- 
toljer:  Her  father  planted  it  in  the  morning,  and  at 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


night  she  was  brought  into  the  world:  he  held  the  liv- 
ing before  me,  and  always  felt  a  great  fondness  for  this 
tree,  and  indeed  his  partiality  has  extended  to  myself. 
Under  this  identical  tree,  sitting  on  a  log  of  wood, 
and  knitting,  did  I,  on  entering  this  yard,  first  be- 
hold my  wife,  and  that  is  now  seven-and-twenty 
years  ago." — Charlotte  here  inquired  for  the  vicar's 
daughter,  and  was  informed  that  she  was  gone  with 
a  Mr.  Smith  into  the  meadows  to  see  the  hay-mak- 
ing;  after  which  the  vicar  renewed  the  thread  of 
his  discourse,  and  informed  us  in  what  manner  he 
had  won  the  good-will  of  the  old  vicar  and  his 
daughter,  and  how  he  obtained  his  curacy,  and  at 
last  filled  his  place. — He  had  just  finished  these  par- 
ticulars, when  Mr.  Smith  returned  with  his  daughter ; 
at  entering,  he  saluted  Charlotte  in  a  very  friendly 
manner.  The  young  lady  is  a  lively  and  genteel 
brunette,  one  with  whom  a  sensible  man  might 
spend  his  life  comfortably  in  the  country. — Mr. 
Smith,  who  I  soon  saw  was  devoted  to  her,  possesses 
a  pleasant  person,  but  is  of  a  reserved  disposition, 
which  was  evident  in  the  several  fruitless  attempts 
Charlotte  made  to  induce  him  to  join  our  conversa- 
tion.— This  rather  displeased  me,  as  I  was  confident 
that  a  want  of  affability,  and  not  a  deficiency  of 
talent,  was  the  cause  of  his  silence  ;  it  was  not  long 
ere  this  opinion  was  confirmed  in  a  walk  we  took 
with  Frederica,  the  vicar's  daughter. — I  had  entered 
into  a  friendly  conversation  with  her,  which  had 
such  a  gloomy  effect  on  the  naturally  dark  counte- 
nance of  her  lover,  that  Charlotte  pulled  me  by  the 
sleeve  to  take  notice  of  it. — It  wounds  me  exces- 
sively when  I  see  men  in  this  manner  become  the 
torments  of  each  other ;  wasting  away,  in  the  days 
of  their  sunshine,  the  bud  of  youth,  and  the  height 
of  enjoyment,  by  idle  jealousies,  and  other  errors, 
which  they  often  see  too  late  to  correct. — At  sup- 
per, the  causes  of  human  happiness  and  misery  being 
the  subject  of  conversation,  I  availed  myself  of  ih* 


32 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


opportunity  to  censure  the  passion  of  ill-humour.-— 
"  There  is  a  common  opinion,"  said  I,  "  among 
mankind,  that  if  the  days  of  happiness  or  misery 
were  counted,  the  latter  would  be  the  most  nume 
rous;  but  this  I  consider  as  an  unwarranted  conclu 
sion. — Could  we  partake  of  the  bounty  which  Pro 
videnre  so  liberally  bestows  on  all  of  us,  with  » 
suitable  meekness  and  gratitude,  the  reflection  woul<* 
smoothen  our  rough  passage  through  life,  and 
lighten  the  load  of  those  evils  which  all,  more  or  less, 
must  bear."  "Well,  but  one  cannot  always  control 
one's  disposition,"  said  the  vicar's  lady, — "much  de- 
pends upon  the  constitution  ;  for  if  the  body  be  ill, 
the  mind  cannot  be  well."  "  Then,  madam,  let  us 
view  it  in  this  light,"  rejoined  I,  "  and  see  if  by 
treating  it  as  a  malady,  there  is  no  remedy  to  be 
found."  "That  is  more  to  the  purpose,"  replied 
Charlotte ;  "  and  to  effect  this,  the  means  will  de- 
pend greatly  upon  our  own  exertions  ; — for  instance, 
when  any  thing  arises  to  interrupt  my  serenity,  I 
.ake  a  turn  in  the  garden,  and  chant  some  pretty  air, 
:y  which  means  my  tranquillity  is  soon  recovered." 
'This,"  said  I,  "is  precisely  that  which  I  mean  ; 
ill-humour  and  sloth  may  be  compared  together; — 
the  former  is  an  inactive  quality,  and  mankind  are 
naturally  indolent ;  but  this  malign  propensity  once 
vanquished,  we  hastily  move  forward,  and  find  a 
secret  pleasure  in  being  actively  engaged." — Frede- 
rica did  not  let  a  word  escape  her ;  and  Mr.  Smith 
opposed  me,  by  remarking  that  we  were  not  able  to 
command  our  temper,  and  that  our  own  power  was 
still  weaker  over  our  feelings ;  whence  I  was  induced 
to  reply,  that  every  one  earnestly  desired  to  be  rid 
of  the  unpleasant  habit  in  question,  that  no  one 
knew  the  extent  of  his  own  strength  till  it  was  called 
into  exertion,  and  that  the  sick  are  under  the  care 
of  a  physician,  and  willingly  endure  the  most  severe 
privations  and  nauseous  drugs  to  be  cured  of  their 
malady. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER.  33 

During  this,  perceiving  the  old  gentleman  was 
anxiously  endeavouring  to  make  out  the  purport  of 
our  conversation,  I  raised  my  voice,  and  directed 
myself  to  him  in  this  manner:  "Notwithstanding 
the  denunciation  of  the  pulpit  has  been  levied  against 
every  kind  of  fault,  I  believe  there  yet  exists  one 
which  has  been  passed  unnoticed — I  mean  ill- 
humour" — "Oh,  oh!"  said  the  vicar,  "that  is  a 
subject  for  the  city  preachers,  but  the  peasantry 
would  be  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  I  meant; — 
though  indeed  a  hint  just  now  and  then  would  not 
be  mistimed  here,  if  it  were  only  for  the  benefit  of 
my  wife  and  the  steward."  The  old  gentleman's  dry 
remark  produced  a  general  burst  of  laughter,  in 
which  he  joined  till  it  brought  on  a  fit  of  coughing, 
that  put  a  stop  to  our  discourse  for  the  moment. — As 
soon  as  its  violence  had  abated,  Mr.  Smith  recom- 
menced the  subject. — "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  think  it  is 
proceeding  to  an  unwarrantable  length  to  call  ill- 
humour  a  fault."  "  I  think  not,"  I  replied,  "  for 
that  which  injures  our  own  happiness,  and  that  of 
others,  deserves  no  better  eitle.  It  is  surely  are- 
flection  sufficiently  painful  that  we  are  incapable  of 
rendering  each  other  mutually  happy  ;  but  we  aug- 
ment the  misfortune,  if  we  place  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  that  little  enjoyment  which  it  is  within  our 
power  to  convey. — The  man  who  fosters  a  churlish 
rancorous  temper  in  his  breast;  who  conceals  its 
weight,  and  does  not  let  it  interrupt  the  quiet  of  his 
neighbour,  is  conscious  within  himself  of  inability  ; 
and  hence  arises  that  peevishness  which  unites  with 
envy,  and  which  the  weakness  of  vanity  encourages. 
To  "see  others  happy,  and  know  that  we  have  in  no- 
wise been  instrumental  to  it,  is  a  painful  reflection." 
Charlotte  could  not  pass  unnoticed  the  emphasis 
which  I  threw  into  this  last  speech,  and  she  looked 
at  me  with  a  smile  ;  but  it  produced  a  tear  in  the 
eve  of  Frederica,  which  induced  me  to  say  farther, 
"I  wish  that  no  one  mav  ever  taste  of  the  cup  of 
D 


34 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


pleasure,  who  employs  the  power  he  possesses  over  a 
tender  heart,  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  that  true 
satisfaction  which  it  is  formed  by  nature  to  partici 
pate  in ! — It  is  not  the  value  or  number  of  presents 
— it  is  not  an  attention  the  most  unremitted — that 
can  counterbalance  the  harmony  and  serenity  of 
mind  which  are  a  prey  to  the  shocks  of  malice  and 
cruelty." — The  remembrance  of  past  occurrences 
now  rushing  upon  me,  my  heart  was  overcharged, 
and  my  eyes  were  suffused  with  tears. — "  Daily," 
added  I,  "  ought  each  of  us  to  interrogate  ourselves, 
and  ask,  What  can  I  do  to  render  my  friend  hap- 
pier?'— We  may  endeavour  not  only  to  let  others 
enjoy  their  happiness  uninterruptedly,  but  we  pos- 
sess the  means  of  improving  it  by  participation  : — 
In  the  storms  of  passion  that  harass  the  soul,  and 
when  keen  pangs  rend  the  heart,  we  cannot  ad- 
minister even  a  transient  relief  and  when  the  mise- 
rable sufferer,  fatally  attacked  by  some  dire  disease, 
sees  his  untimely  grave  prepared  by  your  hand — 
and  stretched  out  pale  and  exhausted,  turns  his  dim 
eyes  towards  heaven — while  the  cold  dews  of  death 
lie  on  his  visage — then,  like  a  culprit,  self-con- 
demned, will  you  stand  before  him. — Sensible  of 
your  error,  when  it  is  too  late,  you  have  no  power 
to  relieve,  but  keenly  feel  that  all  you  can  give  or  do 
is  wholly  vain  to  restore  health,  or  bestow  one  glimpse 
of  comfort  on  the  departing  spirit!" 

These  words  had  no  sooner  fallen  from  my  lips, 
than  they  brought  to  mind  a  similar  scene  to  which  I 
had  once  been  a  witness — It  drew  tears  from  my 
eyes,  which  I  concealed  with  my  handkerchief ;  and 
suddenly  leaving  the  room,  I  did  not  reflect  what'l 
was  about  till  Charlotte  made  me  recollect  myself, 
by  calling  me  back,  and  asking  me  to  return  home. 
Ah !  with  what  kindness  did  she  chide  me  as  we 
walked  forward,  displaying  in  the  most  affectionate 
manner  the  bad  effects  of  that  warm  fervour  and 
anxiety  which  agitate  me  when  interested  in  an  ar- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


85 


jument :  in  the  same  tender  way  did  she  request  mc 
to  abate  that  zeal  which  must  eventually  weaken  my 
frame,  and  bring  on  a  premature  close  of  existence 
Dear  Charlotte  ! — for  thv  sake  1  will  regard  myself- 
yes,  I  will  live  for  thee  ! 

LETTER  XVI. 

July  6. 

CHARLOTTE  remains  with  her  indisposed  Wer 
ter  ;  indeed  her  presence,  wherever  she  visits,  is  sure 
to  alleviate  pain  and  introduce  pleasure. — I  heard 
that  she  intended  to  take  a  walk  with  her  little  sis- 
ters, so  I  joined  her,  and  we  went  together  about 
four  miles. — In  coming  back,  we  stopped  at  the  foun- 
tain which  I  have  before  spoken  of  with  so  much 
partiality,  and  which  now  of  course  is  greater  than 
before. — While  Charlotte  was  seated  on  the  wall,  and 
we  all  stood  before  her,  the  solitary  hours  I  had  for- 
merly spent  there,  when  my  mind  was  unbiassed, 
arose  to  memory,  and  inwardly  I  exclaimed,  "From 
that  time  till  now,  thou  dear  fountain,  has  thy 
reviving  stream,  once  the  spring  of  many  a  delight, 
been  disregarded/' — I  was  standing  in  a  deep  re- 
verie, with  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  spot,  when  I  per- 
ceived one  of  the  children  coming  up  the  steps  with 
a  cup  of  water. — My  looks  here  caught  those  of 
Charlotte,  and  my  bosom  beat  with  the  most  glowing 
sensations. — As  the  little  one  approached,  another  of 
her  sisters,  named  Marianne,  was  going  to  take  it, 
hut  she  withdrew  her  hand,  and  in  the  most  fond 
accent  said,  "No  ; — let  sister  Charlotte  have  the  first 
drink  !" — Pleased  at  her  manner,  I  snatched  up  the 
child,  and  gave  her  a  close  and  earnest  kiss;  but 
she  began  to  cry — Charlotte  said  my  manner  was  too 
IX  ugli,  and  I  expressed  my  chagrin;  while  she,  lead- 
her  little  sister  by  the  hand  down  the  steps  of 
the  fountain,  bid  her  wash  her  face,  and  then  all 
would  be  well  again." — The  child  was  as  eager  to 
obey  her  as  could  be,  and  rubbed  her  cheeks  hear- 


36 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


tily  with  her  little  hands,  till  the  kiss  was  quite 
washed  away,  and  there  was  no  danger  of  a  beard 
growing  in  its  place.  Although  Charlotte  assured 
her  that  she  'had  washed  enough,  she  still  continued 
to  rub  on,  believing  that  so  much  labour  could  not 
be  lost. — lie  assured,  my  friend,  that  at  no  time  have 
I  paid  more  attention  to  the  holy  rites  of  baptism  ; 
and  when  the  child  and  Charlotte  had  ascended,  I 
could  hardly  withhold  myself  from  prostrating  at 
the  feet  of  the  latter,  and  worshipping  her  as  the 
angelic  emblem  of  purity. 

Conversing  in  the  evening  with  a  gentleman  esteem- 
ed for  his  knowledge,  I  related  the  circumstance  ; 
but  common  sense  and  modern  understanding  are 
too  often  at  variance  ;  and  such  was  my  opinion  of 
him. — He  blamed  the  thoughtless  conduct  of  Char- 
lotte, and  affirmed  that  it  was  wrong  to  encourage* 
the  whims  and  weaknesses  of  a  child — "  follies  that 
could  not  too  soon  be  eradicated." — I  understand 
that  this  gentleman,  not  many  days  ago,  became 
himself  a  father,  and  probably  at  that  time  was  ar- 
ranging a  new  system  for  the  education  of  children  ; 
I  therefore  silently  passed  over  his  pedantic  whim- 
sies, satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that,  if  the  indul- 
gence of  our  own  little,  and  often  absurd,  fancies 
contributes  so  essentially  to  our  happiness,  we  should 
show  the  same  toleration  to  the  sportiveness  of  the 
infant  world. 

LETTER  XVII 

July  8. 

WHY  am  I  so  simple,  so  anxious,  and  desirous  to 
get  but  one  glance  !  How  childish  am  I ! — We  have 
been  at  Walheim,  whither  the  ladies  arrived  in  a 
coach,  and  then  alighted  to  walk  in  the  garden  ; — 
there  I  fancied  that  the  beautiful  sparkling  eyes  of 
Charlotte — but  I  am  again  wandering — I  will  speak, 
therefore,  to  the  point,  though  I  am  almost  asleep. — 
After  the  ladies  had  re-entered  their  carriage,  young 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


37 


Weist,  Selfstradt,  Andran,  and  myself,  stood  con- 
versing with  them  at  the  windows — The  gentlemen 
were  in  high  spirits:  but  though  the  eyes  of  Char- 
lotte wandered  from  one  to  another — though  I  stood 
immoveable,  and  looked  on  no  other  object  than 
herself — yet  they  did,  not  once  fix  on  me ; — I  was 
bidding  her  in  my  heart  a  thousand,  thousand  adieus, 
while  she  withheld  from  me  even  the  pleasure  of  a  sin- 
gle regard. — The  carriage  drove  off,  and  my  eyes  pur- 
sued it  full  of  tears ; — I  saw  her  look  back  out  of 
the  window  ; — that  look,  alas  !•  for  whom  was  it  de- 
signed ? — could  it  be  for  me  ? — O  what  uncertainty  ! 
but  suspense  is  not  devoid  of  comfort :  perhaps  it 
might  be  for  me  ! — Good  night ! — I  am  sensible  of 
my  own  irresolution ! 

LETTER  XVIII.  . 

July  10. 

WHEN  Charlotte's  name  is  mentioned  in  com- 
pany, you  cannot  conceive,  my  friend,  how  silly  I 
look,  and  more  particularly  so,  if  any  one  asks  me 
what  I  think  of  her  !  Think  of  her ! — what  a  cold, 
frigid  expression.  Of  what  materials  must  he  be 
made  who  only  approves  of  her,  and  is  dead  to  the 
fascination  of  such  bewitching  perfections  ! — In  what 
manner  do  I  fancy  her ! — In  a  similar  sense,  a  few 
days  ago,  I  was  asked  by  a  person  if  I  fancied  Os- 
sian's  poems ! 

LETTER  XIX. 

July  11. 

THE  sick  lady  whom  Charlotte  went  to  see  in 
town,  still  continues  alarmingly  ill,  in  consequence 
of  which  I  am  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  her  com- 
pany :  hence  she  has  my  daily  orisons  for  her  speedy 
convalescence. — Charlotte  favoured  me  with  a  visit 
to-day,  and  communicated  to  me  a  very  singular 
occurrence.  This  sick  lady's  husband  is  such  a  par- 
simonious unprincipled  being,  that  he  has  scarcely 
Cd 


38 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


allowed  his  wife  a  possible  maintenance  since  they 
were  married:  this  has  rendered  her  miserable,  find- 
ing her  economy  unable  to  keep  equal  with  her  nar- 
row allowance. — As  soon  as  the  physician  assured 
her  that  all  farther  medicine  was  ineffectual,  she 
desired  her  husband  to  be  sent  for,  and  addressed 
him  thus,  as  he  stood  by  her  bed  at  the  side  of  Char- 
lotte :  "  I  am  anxious  to  disclose  a  circumstance, 
which,  if  it  remain  unnoticed,  may  hereafter  create 
uneasiness. — During  thirty  years  I  have  acted  with 
the  utmost  frugality  ;•  but,  notwithstanding  all  my 
economy,  I  have  been  under  the  necessity  of  de- 
frauding you. — The  weekly  allowance  when  we  first 
married  was  but  very  small — our  family  increased, 
but  you  still  continued  it  the  same  ; — and  in  the 
times  of  our  heaviest  expense  no  increase  has  ever 
taken  place. — To  all  this  I  have  conformed  without 
a  murmur  ;  but  the  deficiency  I  have  been  compelled 
to  pay  out  of  the  weekly  produce  of  the  dairy.— 
When  I  am  gone,  it  would  not  have  been  suspected 
that  I  had  taken  any  of  the  money  designed  for  other 
purposes ;  but  my  conduct  was  the  result  of  com- 
pulsion, not  of  extravagance.  Had  I  buried  the 
secret  with  me  in  the  grave,  your  future  housekeeper 
might  have  been  placed  in  an  awkward  predicament, 
and  you  might  have  maintained  that  your  deceased 
wife  had  subsisted  her  family  on  that  narrow  weekly 
pittance  you  have  uniformly  allowed." 

The  severe  and  pointed  reprobation  of  Charlotte 
on  this  avaricious  disposition,  which  had  made  the 
poor  gentlewoman  "Rob  Peter  to  pay  Paul,"  was 
not  forgotten.  "  The  starving  stipend  of  this  wretch," 
said  she,  "was  perhaps  supposed  to  be  increased  by 
the  industry  of  the  wife,  who  augmented  it  like  the 
wonderful  increase  of  the  widow's  pitcher." 


SORROWS  OP  WERTER. 


39 


LETTER  XX. 

July  13. 

No !  I  cannot  err ! — her  eyes  too  palpably  declare 
the  interest  I  have  in  her  bosom ! — there  is  no  delu- 
sion— for  the  delicious  idea  is  responded  from  my 
own  heart — I  will  venture  to  declare  the  fond  hope 
of  being  beloved  ! — Loved  by  her ! — Oh,  how  this 
thought  elevates  my  soul ; — Yes,  my  friend,  it  does : 
and  I  can  venture  nothing  in  telling  what  you  will 
easily  understand. — The  high  distinction  of  her  af- 
fection makes  me  look  upon  myself  as  sell-ennobled  ! 
Do  I  talk  arrogantly? — Rather  it  is  the  self-co^vic- 
tion  of  truth ! — Is  there  one  existing  who  can  super- 
sede me  in  her  love? — Ah,  at  the  sound  of  Albert's 
name — when  it  falls  from  her  lips  with  respect  and 
emotion,  I  feel  like  an  aspiring  commander,  Avho  is 
degraded — one  who  is  divested  of  his  honours — sus- 
pended from  command,  and  compelled  to  surrender 
his  sword. 

LETTER  XXI. 

July  16. 

WHEN  I  accidentally  happen  to  touch  her  hand, 
how  my  heart  flutters  and  my  blood  boils. — Do  our 
feet  meet  under  the  table  ?  I  hastily  withdraw  them  ; 
but  soon  a  certain  impulse  compelsme  to  replace  them, 
and  then  what  strange  emotions  ensue  ! — She  makes 
me  her  friend  and  confidant ; — sweet  innocence ! — she 
intrusts  me  with  the  secrets  of  her  approaching  nup- 
tials, and  conceives  not  the  pangs  she  plants  in  my 
bosom.  When  in  earnest  talk  with  me,  she  rests 
her  hand  upon  mine,  and  draws  her  chair  so  near 
that  I  imbibe  her  fragrantbreath — heavenly  powers  ! 
— then  the  rapid  lightning  is  not  more  electrical. — 
Dare  I  ever  abuse  this  bosom  of  virtuous  innocence! 
Ah,  you  can  read  my  heart,  my  friend ; — not  its  cor- 
ruption, but  its  weakness  alarms  me :  for  frailty  is 
a  species  of  corruption ! — But  her  person  to  me  i?» 


40 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


sacred ;  it  is  her  company  only  that  I  sigh  for — that 
source  of  devotional  pleasure  !  She  touches  one 
simple  beautiful  air  upon  the  harpsichord  with  a  de- 
licacy and  expression  peculiar  to  herself — the  gloom 
of  sadness  is  dissipated  when  she  commences  it,  and 
the  magic  charm,  which  music  is  said  to  possess  in 
curing  the  mania  of  melancholy,  is  realized. — In  the 
moments  when  the  desponding  soul  meditates  its 
own  destruction — in  that  moment  does  this  melting 
air  restore  its  serenity — dissipate  the  misty  horror — 
and  change  the  drooping  visage  of  despair  into  the 
smiles  of  cheerfulness ! 

LETTER  XXII. 

July  18. 

HOW  insignificant  i3  the  possession  of  the  uni- 
verse, if  the  heart  be  dead  to  the  delights  of  love ! 
It  is  an  nnilluminated  magic  lantern ;  but  the  lamp 
once  lighted,  the  figures  play  on  the  whitened  wall ! 
We  are  pleased  with  the  fleeting  shadows ; — and 
such  are  the  effects  of  love ;  they  present  us  only 
with  visionary  images,  and,  like  children,  we  are 
delighted. 

I  shall  not  see  Charlotte  to-day  ;  some  company  I 
did  not  expect  have  rendered  it  impossible — but  to 
make  amends  for  this  privation,  I  sent  my  servant 
with  a  message  to  her,  that  I  might  at  least  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  some  one  who  had  been  in  her 
presence. — How  anxiously  did  I  wait  for  his  return, 
and  so  pleased  was  I  with  the  answer  he  brought 
back,  that  I  could  scarcely  suppress  the  emotions  of 
my  love  before  him. 

The  Bologna  stone,  it  is  said,  has  the  property  of 
imbibing  the  rays  of  the  sun,  when  exposed  to  it. 
with  such  a  degree  of  tenuity,  that  it  emits  light 
for  some  time  after  it  is  placed  in  the  dark.  The 
answer  I  received  had  the  same  effect  on  me  :  it  re- 
flected the  radiance  of  those  eyes  which  had 
enabled  her  to  guide  the  pen,  and  the  whiteness  of 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


41 


that  hand  which  had  written  it,  and  therefore  to  me 
it  was  equally  dear  and  interesting ;  I  would  not 
have  parted  with  it  for  the  wealth  of  Croesus. — 
You  cannot  suppress  a  smile,  but,  believe  me,  no- 
thing can  be  truly  called  illusive  which  renders  us 
happy. 

LETTER  XXIII. 

July  19. 

WHEN  I  awoke  this  morning,  I  opened  my  case- 
ment, and,  as  1  tranquilly  locked  at  the  rising  sun,  I 
exclaimed,  "To-day  I  shall  see  her !"— Yes,  I  shall 
behold  her  ! — This  idea  will  occupy  my  mind  through 
all  this  day;  in  that  delightful  anticipation  is  united 
every  ether  desire ! 

LETTER  XXIV. 

July  20. 

I  DO  not  approve  your  advice  respecting  my  ac- 
companying the  ambassador  to  .    I  understand 

he  is  a  morose  supercilious  character,  and  to  such  ] 
cannot  yield  submission. — My  mother,  you  inform 
me,  seems  to  wish  that  I  were  engaged  in  some 
active  employment.; — I  cannot  repress  a  smile  at 
this  idea,  I  who  am  never  idle — who  busy  myself  in 
even  shelling  peas  and  beans.  The  worid  is  full  of 
wo,  and  I  account  him  a  mere  idiot,  who,  in  com- 
pliance with  the  will  of  the  world,  labours  to  ac- 
quire those  riches  which  he  does  not  need  to  aug- 
ment his  happiness. 

LETTER  XXV. 

July  24. 

1  MUST  inform  you  with  some  regret,  in  answer 
to  the  anxiety  you  express  respecting  my  progress 
in  drawing,  that  I  have  lately  been  very  negligent. 
Not  long  ago  I  undertook  an  historical  piece,  but  I 
cannot  work  at  it:  indeed,  it  appears  to  n:e,  that  I 
can  do  nothing  apart  frcm  nature. — It  is  her  that 


SORROWS  OF  WRRTER. 


I  study  ;  she  is  my  model  in  all  her  different  forms:— 
yet,  in  the  present  state  of  my  mind,  I  possess  none 
of  that  assiduity  and  attention  which  are  so  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  delineating  her  minor  beauties 
with  true  effect : — all  my  attempts  are  abortive  ; 
my  outlines  are  incorrect,  and  the  colours  all  swim 
as  I  look  at  them  ! — if  this  humour  do  not  remove,  I 
will  try  something  in  relief,  with  clay  or  wax. — Three 
attempts  have  I  made  to  take  Charlotte's  picture, 
and  as  many  times  has  my  pencil  blushed  for  me  ;  for- 
merly my  likenesses  were  held  in  great  estimation  : 
but  this  unaccountable  incapacity  gives  me  a  great 
deal  of  chagrin. — However,  that  I  might  not  altoge- 
ther fail,  I  have  made  her  profile  in  shade,  and  for 
the  present  that  must  content  me. 

LETTER  XXVI. 

July  26. 

RELY  upon  it,  my  dear  Charlotte,  that  all  your 
requests  shall  be  most  punctually  executed.  The 
more  you  command,  the  greater  will  be  my  hap- 
piness— and  the  last  commission  shall  always  be 
performed  with  the  most  alacrity. — One  thing,  how- 
ever, I  wish  you  would  attend  to — write  your  let- 
ters without  sanding  them  ;  for,  to-day,  in  my  eager- 
ness to  press  the  writing  to  my  lips,  the  sand  grated 
betwreen  my  teeth. 

LETTER  XXVII. 

July  27. 

CONTINUALLY  do  I  resolve  not  to  see  her  so 
frequently  ;  but  the  resolves  of  lovers  are  no  sooner 
made  than  broken. — Ah,  my  friend,  promising  and 
performing  are  two  things  essentially  different ;  and 
how  easy  is  the  one  to  the  other  ! — Daily  do  I  suffer 
imrself  to  be  tempted  away,  and  yet  when  I  return  at 
night,  I  as  constantly  say  that  I  will  not  go  to-mor- 
row ; — the  morrow  arrives,  and  with  it  some  charm 
that  bends    my  footsteps  to  her  abode. — Do  not 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


43 


imagine,  however,  that  these  charms  are  merely 
ideal. — If  when  we  part,  she  says,  "  Will  you  not 
come  again  to-morrow  ?"  could  I  be  insensible  to  such 
a  request  ?  or  if  she  gives  me  some  order  to  execute, 
con  I  omit  returning  with  an  answer  in  person  ? — 
At  another  time,  the  weather  is  fine,  and  the  walk 
to  Walheim  is  good  for  exercise  ; — at  Walheim  I  am 
but  half  a  league  from  her  house,  and  how  could  J 
stop  short,  when  so  near,  or  return  without  seeing 
her  ? — It  would  be  impossible  ! 

I  remember  that  my  grandmother  used  to  tell  us 
a  long  story  about  a  loadstone  mountain,  the  at- 
traction of  which  was  so  great,  that  when  any  vessel 
came  within  a  certain  distance,  the  nails  flew  from 
the  planks  up  the  mountain,  and  the  crew  perished 
in  the  unfastened  wreck.  The  application  will  be 
easily  made  by  my  friend  ;  but  were  the  universe 
one  loadstone,  its  attraction  would  be  inferior  to 
that  of  my  Charlotte  ! 

LETTER  XXVIII. 

July  30. 

AT  length  Albert  is  come,  and  Werter  must  de- 
part! — If  he  were  the  most  excellent  of  men.  the 
most  ennobled  of  human  kind,  and  myself  in  all 
things  his  inferior,  I  yet  could  not  endure  to  behold 
him  in  the  enjoyment  of  such  matchless  charms  and 
perfections. — Ah  !  I  have  seen  this  happy  destined 
bridegroom,  and  find  him  accomplished  and  irre- 
proachable, one  who  is  formed  to  make  himself  es- 
teemed.— Happily,  I  was  not  by  at  their  first  inter- 
view ;  it  would  have  been  too  much  for  this  poor 
heart ; — nay,  he  has  been  sufficiently  guarded  not  to 
give  her  one  embrace  in  my  presence.  May  heaven 
reward  him  for  this  !  I  cannot  but  esteem  him  for  the 
affection  he  bears  this  angel,  to  whom  I  am  certainly 
indebted  for  the  kind  respect  he  treats  me  with. — 
The  ladies  possess  great  address  in  keeping  up  a 
good  understanding  between  rivals  ;  and,  though  it 


44 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


does  not  always  succeed,  it  is  worth  making  the  at- 
tempt for  ;  since,  if  it  do,  they  are  sure  to  be  t);e  great- 
est gainers. 

It  is  impossible  to  refuse  this  Albert  my  esteem. 
— His  even  unruffled  mind  forms  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  impetuosity  of  mine,  yet  he  is  not  de- 
ficient in  tenderness,  and  seems  full}'  sensible  of 
the  invaluable  treasure  of  his  Charlotte. —  I  have 
not  observed  him  display  the  least  ill-humour,  a 
fault  to  which  you  know  I  bear  a  great  antipathy. — 
He  considers  me  as  endued  with  taste  and  discern- 
ment ;  nor  docs  ho  find  his  conquest  and  his  passion 
less  Mattering,  because  I  make  no  secret  of  my 
partiality  for  the  person  and  conversation  of  Char- 
lotte.— In  their  private  moments  perhaps  he  may 
sometimes  play  off  a  few  trivial  jealousies  ;  but 
whether  it  be  so  or  not,  I  am  certain,  that,  were  I 
placed  in  the  same  situation  as  he  is,  I  could  not 
evince  the  same  undisturbed  disposition. — What 
pangs  do  thy  votaries,  love,  endure  ! — Whatever  may 
be  the  future  situation  of  Albert,  all  the  delights  i 
enjoyed  in  the  company  Charlotte  arc  now  no 
more! — Shall  I  call  this  folly  or  infatuation? — It 
matters  not  what  you  call  it,  since  1,  alas!  am 
doomed  to  be  sensible  of  it. — Before  Albert  arrived, 
I  knew  all  that  I  know  at  this  moment ;  and  was 
then  informed  that  I  could  have  no  pretensions  to 
her  hand — nor  did  I  ever  hint  at  such  an  intention  ; 
for  whatever  passion  I  have  displayed  was  the  mere 
effect  of  her  resistless  perfections  ;  yet,  now,  ] 
stand  like  an  idiot,  overwhelmed  wit!)  astonish- 
ment, to  find  that  the  real  proprietor  of  the  jewel 
has  taken  into  his  own  protection  that  treasure 
which  never  was  mine.  I  am  vexed  with  myself, 
and  deplore  my  weakness;  but  1  should  feel  a 
greater  contempt  for  the  grave  cold  reasoner,  who 
would  argue  me  into  submission,  and  preach  forti- 
tude because  it  is  not  to  be  remedied — I  despise 
such  wordy  empty  philosophers  ! — Yesterday,  after 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


45 


taking  a  long  ramble  in  the  woods,  I  returned  to 
Charlotte's  house,  and  found  her  sitting  in  the 
bower  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  conversing  with 
Albert. — Like  a  child,  I  played  a  thousand  little 
extravagancies  to  conceal  what  I  feit  within. — To- 
day when  I  met  her,  she  said,  "Do  not,  for  heaven's 
sake,  Werter,  act  again  as  you  did  last  night: — ■ 
your  violent  emotions  are  quite  terrifying !" — Be- 
tween ourselves,  my  friend,  I  have  lately  taken  to 
observe  Albert's  movements,  and,  as  often  as  he  is 
compelled  to  be  away,  I  take  the  advantage  of 
his  absence  to  enjoy  her  company  in  the  manner  I 
.vish,  that  is,  alone. 

LETTER  XXIX. 

August  8. 

BELlEVE  me,  my  friend,  when  I  spurned  the 
cold  reasoners  who  would  advise  me  to"  be  recon- 
ciled to  such  an  event,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that 
you  would  be  included  in  that  number :  yet,  I  ad- 
mit you  have  written  the  truth ;  and  to  which  I 
shall  only  oppose  this  one  objection : — When  two 
extreme  plans  are  proposed,  both  are  generally  re- 
jected. Just  as  various  as  the  features  of  our 
countenances  are  the  lines  of  our  opinion  and  con 
duct ;  and,  this  admitted,  I  shall  allow  the  truth  of 
your  inferences,  and  endeavour  by  taking  a  middle 
path,  to  evade  them. 

You  say  that  either  I  have  hopes  of  possessing 
Charlotte,  or  that  I  have  not.  What  results  from 
this  ? — In  the  first,  I  ought  to  pursue  my  olfject  with 
increased  avidity,  and  leave  no  means  unessayed  to 
promote  my  wishes. — In  the  second,  you  bid  me 
assume  the  character  of  manliness,  and  reject  an  un- 
fortunate attachment,  the  end  of  which  is  destruc- 
tion.— Such  is  the  advice  you  wisely  give,  but,  my 
friend,  how  much  easier  is  the  theory  than  the  prac- 
tice ! 

SuoDose  a  languishing"  wretch,  sinking  under  a 
E 


46 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


wasting  disease,  and  whose  constitution  is  daily 
exhausting  ; — would  you  encourage  this  man  to 
terminate  his  miseries  hy  a  dagger  or  poison  ? — Does 
not  the  same  malady  which  weakens  his  frame,  de- 
prive him  also  of  that  fortitude  which  such  a  daring 
act  requires? — This  simile  perhaps  you  may  answer 
by  another,  and  ask  irre,  whether  any  one  would  net 
rather  endure  the  amputation  of  a  limb  than  risk 
the  loss  of  life  by  delaying  the  operation  ? — It  may 
be  right ;  and,  indeed,  my  friend,  there  have  been 
times  in  which  I  have  resolved  to  tear  myself  from 
the  danger,  could  I  any  where  have  found  an 
asylum ! 

P.  S.  Looking  accidentally  at  my  memorandum 
book,  which  has  lately  been  much  neglected,  I  iind 
that  I  have  been  very  attentive  to  the  minutest 
circumstances. — It  is  singular,  that  I  should  be  so 
precise  in  every  particular,  and  yet  act  so  childishly. 
— In  the  mean  time,  while  I  remain  perfectly  the 
same  in  my  intellects,  there  exists  not  a  hope  of  my 
recovery. 

LETTER  XXX. 

August  10. 

WERE  I  capable  of  acting  rationally,  I  might 
now  enjoy  the  happiest  life  a  mortal  can  lead;  so 
many  agreeable  circumstances  combine  to  this  end; 
but,  alas  !  I  feel  that  happiness  must  be  seated  in 
the  mind,  and  not  in  externals. — To  be  accounted 
a  member  of  one  of  the  most  amiable  of  families — 
to  be  regarded  by  the  father  as  a  son — by  his 
children  as  a  brother — and  by  Charlotte,  and  the 
virtuous  good  Albeit,  who  salutes  me  as  a  friend, 
and  holds  me  dearer  to  him  than  every  thing,  except 
Charlotte  ; — some  would  think  I  must  be  blessed. — 
When  we  walk  together,  and  mutually  converse 
upon  the  perfections  of  Charlotte,  I  regret  that 
you  cannot  overhear  us. — Nothing,  ir  appears  to  me, 
can  be  more  unusual  and  farcical  than  this  intimacy 


sorrows  of  werter. 


47 


between  us,  and  yet  it  possesses  an  indescribable 
something  which  softens  me  into  tears. — Whenever 
he  speaks  of  the  amiable  and  respectable  mother  of 
Charlotte — when  he  enlarges  upon  her  dying  mo- 
ments, and  that  tender  scene  in  which  she  be- 
queathed to  her  daughter  the  future  management 
of  her  children  and  family  when  be  portrays  the 
change  of  character  Charlotte  assumed  for  that  oc 
casion ; — her  domestic  economy,  her  maternal  as 
well  as  sisterly  love  to  the  children — her  punctual 
discharge  of  these  active  duties,  without  the  least 
diminution  of  her  natural  and  enchanting  vivacity  ! 
while  he  relates  these  things,  I  walk  by  his  side, 
pick  up  the  flowers  in  our  path,  carefully  unite 
them  into  a  nosegay,  which  I  toss  into  the  first  rivu- 
let we  come  to,  and  then  steadfastly  regard  it,  uncon- 
scious of  what  I  am  doing,  till  it  sinks.  I  do  not  re- 
member if  I  told  you  that  Albert  has  settled  here. 
Being  much  esteemed  at  court,  he  has  obtained  a 
lucrative  post  there ;  and,  indeed,  I  have  seldom 
seen  one  better  gifted  with  that  punctuality  and  cor- 
rectness so  indispensable  in  business. 

LETTER  XXXI. 

August  12. 

THERE  certainly  cannot  be  a  better  character 
than  Albert ; — the  conversation  we  had  together 
yesterday  was  very  remarkable,  and  it  is  worth  your 
hearing.  Having  a  fancy  to  spend  a  few  days  in 
the  mountains,  whence  I  now  write  to  you,  I  went 
previously  to  bid  him  farewell. — As  I  walked  up  and 
down  his  room,  I  perceived  his  pistols,  and  begged 
him  to  lend  them  to  me  during  my  journey. — He 
readily  assented,  adding  only,  that  I  must  take  the 
trouble  of  loading  them,  as  with  him  they  were 
hung  up  more  for  ornament  than  use.  While  I 
handled  one  of  them,  he  proceeded,  "Iliad  once 
very  near  paid  dearly  for  being  prepared  against 
danger;  since  which  period,  I  have  never  kept  my 


48 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


pistols  charged." — I  desired  him  to  explain  h^w  the 
accident  happened.  "Being  (said  he)  at  a  friend's 
house  in  the  country  for  a  short  time,  I  always  slept 
soundly,  though  my  pistols  were  unloaded.  It 
happened,  however,  that  one  rainy  afternoon,  as  I 
was  sitting  idle,  it  unaccountably  occurred  to  me, 
that  the  house  might  be  broken  open  and  plundered 
that  night ;  that  the  pistols  might  prevent  it ;  and 

that  but  you  know  how  indolence  will  sit  and 

imagine  things  : — The  result  was,  that  I  gave  t  lern 
to  my  servant  to  clean  and  load  ;  and  he,  thought- 
less and  playful,  presented  one  at  the  maid,  to 
frighten  her. — God  knows  how  it  happened,  but 
one  of  the  pistols  went  off  with  the  rammer  in 
it,  which  struck  the  girl's  right  hand,  and  tore  off 
her  thumb. — The  accident,  it  will  be  easily  con- 
ceived, occasioned  a  great  deal  of  distress  as  well  as 
expense,  for  I  had  the  surgeon's  bill  to  pay. — Since 
that  period,  I  have  always  kept  my  pistols  un- 
charged.— But,  indeed,  how  futile  is  all  human 
foresight ! — We  can  neither  anticipate,  nor  avert  the 
dangers  which  lurk  round  us  !" — Every  thing  in 
Albert  pleases  me,  except  his  indecds ;  but,  you 
know,  every  rule  has  its  exception.  He  is  so  parti- 
cular in  being  correct,  and  such  his  love  of  veracity, 
that  if  he  have  advanced  any  thing  in  argument 
that  may  admit  of  a  question,  or  be  too  vague  or 
undefined,  he  always  qualifies  and  softens  what  he 
has  said  with  so  many  palliatives,  that  at  the  con- 
clusion he  appears  to  have  said  nothing  at  all. — 
Albert  following  his  general  practice,  was  deeply 
involved  in  commenting  upon  this  subject,  while  I, 
no  longer  attending  to  him,  but  wandering  in 
reveries,  unconsciously  placed  the  mouth  of  the 
pistol  against  my  forehead.  "What  are  you  at?" 
exclaimed  Albert,  canting  the  pistol  on  one  side, 
and  snatching  it  forcibly  from  my  hand,  "  Why,  it 
•s  not  loaded!"  I  replied.  "Admit  it  is  not,"  he 
•eplied  vehemently;  "what  is  the  use  of  an  action 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER.  49 


which  must  have  been  directed  by  some  motive  ! — 
To  me,  the  man  who  would  shoot  himself,  appears 
as  the  worst  of  lunatics — the  hare  idea  only  makes 
me  tremolo  !"  "  Where  is  the  man,"  I  retorted, 
"  who  dare  unhesiatingly  aflirm  that  such  an  action 
is  mad  or  wise,  right  or  wrong  ? — To  what  docs  your 
hasty  exclamation  allude? — Have  you  fully  weighed 
the  secret  cause  for  such  an  action,  whence  it 
sprang,  and  the  necessity  which  made  it  irresistible  ? 
Had  you  investigated  these  sources,  probably  your 
decision  would  have  been  less  prompt."  "Some 
actions  you  will  surely  allow,"  said  Albert,  "are 
in  their  very  nature  criminal,  whatever  be  the  mo- 
tive from  which  they  are  committed." — I  gave  an 
unmeaning  assent,  and  proceeded  :  "  Other  excep- 
tions, ray  good  friend,  may  be  here  brought  forward. 
— Robbery  is  confessedly  a  heinous  crime,  but  the 
wretch  who  is  forcea  into  it  by  extreme  want,  who 
lessens  the  store  of  the  affluent  to  save  his  family 
and  himself  from  perishing — is  he  not  rather  an 
object  of  pity  than  punishment  ? — Who  shall  be  the 
first  to  throw  a  stone  at  the  husband,  who  in  the 
natural  ebullition  of  just  resentment,  sacrifices  the 
dishonoured  wife  and  her  base  paramour  ? — Would 
any  one  denominate  her  as  infamous,  who  has  been 
the  credulous  victim  of  some  unprincipled  seducer  ? 
— Even  our  own  laws,  rigid  and  unfeeling  as  they 
are,  listen  to  mercy,  and  remit  the  punishment." 
"  Such  examples,  however,  (replied  Albert)  do  not 
in  the  least  apply  to  the  present  case. — If  a  man  be 
swayed  by  rash  and  violent  impulses,  and  be  inca- 
pable of  reflecting,  he  is  to  be  classed  with  the 
drunkard  and  the  maniac." — "  O  ye  moralizers  (I 
exclaimed  with  a  smile  of  contempt)  with  w  hat  ease 
and  apathy  do  you  decide — while  ycu  talk  of  rash- 
ness, inebriation,  and  lunacy,  you  remain  tranquil 
and  unmoved,  despise  the  inebriated — avoid  the 
insane — and,  like  the  priest  and  the  Pharisee,  you 
pass  by  en  the  oilier  side,  and  ere  grateful  to  God 

Ee 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


that  you  are  not  such  a  one — I  have  myself  been 
more  than  once  injured  by  liquor,  and  at  such 
times  have  committed  the  most  foolish  excesses, 
which  I  feel  no  shame  to  confess. — It  has  been  a 
lesson  to  me ;  when  any  man  exhibits  silverier 
abilities,  or  performs  any  remarkable  act  of  heroism, 
the  world  considers  him  either  as  drunken  or  out  of 
his  senses  : — Indeed,  even  these  weak  notions  obtain 
in  private  life ;  for  what  is  said  of  the  youth  who  is 
very  generous  and  daring  ? — that  he  is  besotted  cr 
mad. — Think  of  this,  ye  sages,  ye  philosophers, 
and  blush!" — "These  are  the  extravagancies  of 
romance,"  said  Albert;  "you  always  exceed  the 
mark,  and  now  wander  very  wide  from  the  truth, 
when  you  compare  great  actions  with  suicide,  which 
has  always  been  looked  upon  as  a  w  cakness. — To 
sustain  a  life  of  wretchedness  with  fortitude  is  a 
task  much  harder  to  perform  than  to  end  misfortune 
by  the  stroke  of  death." 

Tired  of  a  conversation  which  disgusted  me  by 
its  trite  and  unmeaning  sentiments,  whilst  I  was  ut 
tering  the  feelings  of  my  inmost  soul,  I  was  upon 
the  point  of  abruptly  discontinuing  it ;  however,  I 
soon  checked  my  impetuosity,  recollecting  that  I 
had  lately  often  heard  this  contemptible  argument 
urged,  without  its  making  the  least  impression  on 
me. — But  I  observed  farther,  and  with  energy, 
"  while  you  denominate  suicide  a  weakness,  do  not 
be  prejudiced  by  mere  sound.  Let  us  imagine  that, 
a  nation,  groaning  under  a  cruel  and  despotic 
tyranny,  was  to  resist,  and  finally  to  throw  off  its 
chains — is  this  victory  to  be  called  a  weakness  ?— 
Suppose  a  house  in  flames,  and  the  desperate  ownei 
exerts  his  strength  in  removing  burthens  which 
before  he  could  not  move — or  that  a  man,  infur'ated 
by  revenge  and  injury,  attacks  and  drives  away  hall 
a  dozen  of  his  enemies — are  these  men  to  be  called 
weak  ?—  It  follows,  therefore,  my  friend,  that  if  re- 
sistance be  a  proof  of  fortitude,  how  can  that  which 


SORROWS  OF  WLfvTER. 


51 


is  the  greatest  degree  of  all  possible  resistance  be 
denominated  a  weakness?"  Albert  regarded  me 
steadfastly  for  a  moment,  and  then  rejoined,  "With 
submission,  I  must  acknowledge  that  all  the  in- 
stances you  have  enumerated  are  irrelative  to  the 
subject  before  us."  "  Very  probably,"  I  replied  ; 
"  for  it  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  been  accused  of 
incongruity  in  my  method  of  combining  things. 
But  let  us  endeavour  to  place  the  object  in  another 
point  of  view,  and  investigate  the  situation  of  that 
man  who  is  determined  no  longer  to  bear  the  load 
of  existence — that  burthen  of  which  all  are  so  tena- 
cious.— Let  us  make  his  feelings  our  own,  without 
which  we  cannot  discuss  the  argument  fairly.  Human 
nature  (I  proceeded)  is  bounded  by  certain  con- 
fines— that  is,  it  can  endure  pleasure,  wo,  and 
pain,  but  to  a  certain  extent ;  beyond  which,  it 
ceases  to  be  injured,  and  becomes  insensible. — We 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  strength  or  weakness 
of  a  man,  but  whether  he  can  overstep  these  limits, 
when  mental  or  bodily  evils  overwhelm  him. — No- 
thing to  me  can  be  more  absurd  than  to  bestow  the 
appellation  of  coward  on  that  man  who  puts  an  end 
to  his  existence,  unless  it  be  to  call  him  one  who 
dies  of  a  malignant  fever."  "Mere  hypothesis — all 
paradox!" — exclaimed  Albert!  "Less  so  than  ycu 
imagine,"  I  rejoined;  "you  will  admit  that  a 
disease  is  properly  called  fatal,  when  nature  is  so 
morbidly  attacked,  and  her  powers  so  Tar  sunken, 
that  what  remains  is  inadequate  to  continue  either 
animation  or  circulation — this  argument  will  adapt 
itself  to  the  soul,  and  let  us  investigate  the  impres- 
sions and  the  ideas  which  act  upon  it,  till  at  last 
an  irresistible  passion  obtains  the  dominion,  weakens 
the  powers  it  once  possessed,  and  entirely  subdues 
it ; — in  vain  does  the  man  of  strong  sense  and  a 
collected  temper  see  the  unhappy  Situation  of  the 
forlorn  being,  in  such  abject  circumstances  ; — with- 
out effect  he  gives  him  counsel,  and  resembles  a 


b2  SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 

man  in  perfect  health,  who  sits  by  the  bed  of  his 
dying  friend,  unable  to  impart  to  him  the  smallest 
portion  of  his  own  vigour." 

The  inference  to  be  drawn  from  this,  Albert  con- 
tended was  much  too  wide. — I  then  quoted  the 
story  of  the  young  woman,  who  lately  drowned 
herself,  and  which  he  had  forgotten,  tPl  I  men- 
tioned it. — "  An  innocent  young  creature,"  said  ], 
"  so  habituated  to  the  narrow  sphere  of  family 
concerns,  and  her  weekly  work,  that  her  happiness 
never  extended  beyond  taking  a  walk  in  the  mea- 
dows on  Sunday,  and  a  dance  at  the  holyday-fairs, 
while  the  other  little  leisure  she  had,  was  passed  in 
talking  with  her  acquaintance  about  the  village 
news  and  tittle-tattle. — Presently  her  heart  is  mfiated 
with  new  wishes,  occasioned  by  the  flatteries  of 
the  men  ;  her  former  artless  pleasures  become  in- 
sipid.— At  length  she  accidentally  meets  with  a 
youth,  who  begets  in  her  bosom  a  mutual  and  a 
new  affection  ;  from  which  period,  her  delight  is  all 
centred  in  him  ;  she  loses  sight  of  every  other  ob- 
ject in  the  world,  and  sees,  hears,  desires,  and 
meditates,  only  on  her  lover. — Her  heart,  unin- 
fluenced by  the  baleful  charm  of  variety  and  frivo- 
lity, entertains  no  other  hope  than  tobe  his — dreams 
of  being  his  wedded  wife,  and  doubts  not  of  realiz- 
ing that  happiness — His  promises,  and  ardent  vows, 
constantly^ renewed,  confirm  her  hopes,  her  love 
keeps  pace  with  his  fondness — her  whole  frame  is 
an  anticipation  of  pleasure — of  rapture — and,  over- 
come by  the  soft  impulses,  she  extends  her  arms  to 
embrace  the  dear  treasure  of  her  affections. — Ah  ! 
unhappy  delusion ! — her  lover  is  faithless,  per- 
jured ! — he  forsakes  her,  and  she  is  distracted! — 
Petrified  ! — overwhelmed  !  she  stands  senseless  on 
the  brink  of  that  abyss  of  misery  which  extends 
around  her  darkness  envelopes  her — no  gleam  of 
hope  cheers  her — he  is  gone —  gone  for  ever — he 
whose  life  was  dearer  to  her  than  her  own — and  in 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


53 


the  midst  of  the  universe,  and  surrounded  by  mini 
berless  admirers  who  would  repair  the  injury  she 
has  sustained,  she  feels  cut  off  from  society,  and  de- 
serted by  the  world! — Thus  blinded  and  impelled 
by  the  keen  goadings  of  grief  and  despair,  she 
plunges  into  the  merciless  deep,  and  sinks  to  rise 
no  more! — In  this  picture,  Albert,  is  portrayed 
the  history  of  many  men  ;  and  let  me  ask,  is  it  not 
a  similar  case  to  illness?  Nature  finding  no  way 
to  escape,  and  sensible  that  her  enfeebled  energies 
were  incapable  of  contending  with  the  accumulating 
evil,  her  only  refuge  was  death. — Shame  on  that 
man  who  can  listen  to  this  pitiable  story,  and  then 
coldly  exclaim,  4  A  silly  girl,  why  did  not  she  wait 
till  time  had  worn  off  the  impression  ; — her  despon- 
dency would  soon  have  become  lighter,  and  a  wor- 
thier lover  might  have  found  the  way  to  her  heart !' 
— With  equal  propriety  might  it  be  said,  such  a  sim- 
pleton died  of  a  fever — if  he  would  but  have  kept 
himself  cool,  and  Waited  till  his  strength  was  quite 
renovated,  all  would  have  been  well  enough,  and  he 
might  have  been  alive  now!" 

Albert  would  not  still  allow  my  comparison  to  be 
just,  and  therefore  suggested  many  objections :  and, 
among  others,  that  I  had  advanced  only  the  example 
of  a  simple  uninformed  girl.  He  could  not  con- 
ceive it  possible  that  a  man  of  education  and  mind, 
whose  views  were  enlarged,  and  whose  consolations 
were  numerous  in  proportion,  could  commit  an  act 
of  suicide.  "  My  good  friend,"  said  I,  "  though  bless- 
ed with  a  most  enlightened  education  and  the  sound- 
est intellect,  a  man  is  but  a  man ;  and  the  reason  he 
possesses,  when  opposed  to  the  ebullition  of  passiou, 
or,  more  properly,  when  the  limits  of  human  nature 
close  in  upon  him,  does  not  act  at  all,  or  with  a 
very  feeble  effect. — Again — But  let  us  cease  at  pre- 
sent, and  resume  the  argument  another  time." — I 
then  abruptly  took  my  leave  and  went  cut — Alas! — 
my  heart  was  ready  to  burst,  and  we  parted  without 


54 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


a  perfect  understanding  on  either  side! — Ah!  how 
rarely  do  men  comprehend  each  other ! 

LETTER  XXXII. 

August  15. 

DOUBTLESS  the  charm  which  renders  us  essen 
tial  to  each  other  is  a  similarity  of  taste  and  senti 
ment. — Charlotte,  I  am  certain,  cannot  see  me  de 
part  without  feeling  some  regret;  and  as  to  th* 
children,  they  never  let  me  go  away  on  one  day 
without  asking  me  to  be  sure  and  come  the  next.- 
I  visited  them  this  evening  that  I  might  tune  Char- 
lotte's harpsichord  ;  but  scarcely  had  I  set  my  foot 
within  doors,  when  my  intention  was  disappointed  ; 
for  all  the  children  came  running  to  me,  and  en- 
treated me  to  tell  them  a  story. — Charlotte  was  will- 
ing that  I  should  indulge  them.  Having,  therefore, 
served  out  to  tiiem  their  supper-bread,  which  they 
accept  from  my  hands  as  cheerfully  as  if  it  were 
distributed  by  Charlotte,  I  told  them  my  very  best 
tale  of  "  Henry  and  Peter,  or  the  Giant  who  was 
served  by  Dwarfs." — Practice,  I  can  assure  you,  has 
considerably  improved  my  fancy  in  this  way ;  and 
the  effect  which  such  tales  produce  on  the  infant 
mind  is  astonishing. — If  I  insert  an  incident  more 
than  usual,  in  relating  an  old  story,  or  omit  to  men- 
tion, or  even  alter,  any  one,  the  arch  little  rogues 
tell  me  "  that  it  was  not  so  the  first  time  ;"  hence  I 
now  endeavour  to  be  as  exact  in  words  and  tone  as 
possible ;  and  indeed  this  trifling  circumstance  has 
convinced  me  that  an  author  may  injure  his  works 
by  altering,  and  even  amending,  the  successive  edi- 
tions. The  first  impression  sinks  the  deepest,  and 
with  the  credulous  it  can  rarely  be  effaced  ;  nay,  he 
will  be  vainly  employed  who  endeavours  to  eradi- 
cate it. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


LETTER  XXXIII. 

August  18 

CAN  it  be  possible  that  the  same  cause  which  first 
constituted  man's  highest  enjoyment  should  after- 
ward be  productive  of  his  misery  ? — The  warm  ad- 
miration of  nature  which  formerly  animated  my 
breast,  which  flowed  upon  mc  in  a  torrent  of  rap- 
ture, and  placed  me  in  an  ideal  paradise,  is  now 
become  an  insupportable  anguish,  a  demon  which 
follows  and  goads  me  unremittingly. — Formerly  J 
scaled  the  summit  of  the  lofty  rocks,  ucul  there  con 
templated  the  line  river  which,  to  a  trackless  dis 
tance,  meanders  through  this  fertile  piain. — Every 
thing  then  flourished,  grew,  and  expanded — AH 
around  me  was  in  activity. — The  mountains  were 
clothed  to  their  highest  points  with  tall  and  tufted 
trees,  and  the  serpentine  valleys  were  shaded  by 
friendly  woods. — The  pensive  stream  stole  its  way 
through  the  trembling  reeds,  and  reflected  from  its 
lucid  bosom  the  light  cloud  which  dwelt  in  the  air, 
floating  on  the  gentlest  zephyrs. —  I  heard  the  fea- 
thered harmonists  enlivening  the  woods  with  their 
carols. — The  purple  rays  of  the  sun  teemed  with  my- 
riads of  sportive  animalcule,  and  the  busy  hum  of 
the  grasshoppers  at  evening  attracted  my  earnest 
notice.  The  arid  rock  nourished  the  moss,  and  the 
sands  below  were  encrusted  with  thick  broom. — 
The  genial  glow  which  animates  all  nature  filled  and 
warmed  my  heart ;  and  I  was  lost  in  the  glorious 
idea  of  infinity.  Stupendous  mountains  reared  their 
heads  above  me — rude  fragments  of  rock  and  shagged 
precipices  lay  at  my  feet — cataracts  dashed  down  by 
my  side — impetuous  rivers  rolled  through  the  plain 
—Echo  repeated  every  sound  from  rock  to  rock,  and 
cave  to  cave — in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  incalcula- 
ble powers  were  in  motion,  and  multiplying  end- 
lessly.— While  the  host  of  created  existences,  of  in- 
numerable kinds  and  shapes,  dwell  upon  the  earth, 


50 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


or  hover  in  the  air,  man  sneaks  into  his  little  hut, 
and  peeping  out,  bombastically  exclaims,  "Behold,  I 
am  the  lord  of  this  vast  universe !" — Perishable 
creature ! — every  thing  appears  little  to  thee,  for 
thou  art  littleness  itself. — Cragged  mountains — path- 
less wilds — the  fathomless  confines  of  immense 
oceans — are  all  upholden  by  the  spirit  of  the  Eter- 
nal, and  every  atom  which  he  has  called  into  exist- 
ence is  the  specific  object  of  his  providential  care! 
Oh,  how  often,  while  borne  away  by  this  train  of 
thought,  have  I  wished,  as  some  bird  of  prey  darted 
over  my  head  through  the  liquid  air,  that  I  could 
mount  upon  its  pinion,  and  traverse  the  immensity 
of  space — there,  transported  to  some  blissful  region, 
quench  my  thirst  at  the  fountain  of  eternal  joy — 
there  partake,  if  but  for  a  moment,  witli  my  con- 
tracted soul,  of  the  beatitude  of  that  immortal 
Omnipotent,  "  in  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being !" 

The  bare  recollection  of  these  hours,  my  dear 
friend,  is  still  dear  to  my  heart;  but  when  my  vehe- 
ment mind  recalls  those  sensations  which  furnish  me 
with  the  powers  of  description,  then  do  I  soar  above 
myself,  and  feel  my  present  misery  with  a  double 
keenness. 

The  curtain  descends — the  scene  is  changed; — 
the  beautiful  prospect  of  eternal  life  is  become  a 
bottomless  pit,  yawning  to  enguiph  me. — How  can 
we  assert  that  any  thing  does  exist,  when  all  is 
transient  ? — When  time  in  its  rapid  progress  carries 
every  thing  with  it,  and  our  fleeting  life,  hurried 
down  the  torrent,  is  either  overwhelmed  by  the 
waves  or  dashed  to  pieces  against  the  rocks :  Not 
a  moment  passes  without  a  tendency  hostile  to  my 
own  preservation,  and  that  of  all  I  see  ;  and,  in 
turn,  I  am  myself  every  moment  a  destroyer. — An 
innocent  walk  deprives  thousands  of  unoffending 
insects  of  life :  at  one  step  the  mazy  habitation  of 
the  industrious  ant  is  ruined,  and  a  world  in  minia 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


57 


ture  is  crushed  into  a  chaotic  mass. — Believe  me,  it 
is  not  the  great  and  unexpected  calamities  of  the 
world,  the  inundations  which  overwhelm  whole  vil- 
lages, the  earthquakes  that  entomb  whole  cities, 
which  excite  my  feelings,  and  sensibly  moves  me  : 
No ! — the  worm  that  gnaws  niG  is  that  hidden  de- 
structive principle  which  operates  in  all  the  arcana 
of  nature. — Her  greatest  works  all  contain  within 
themselves  the  seeds  of  their  own  dissolution  j  every 
thing  acts  to  its  own  destruction,  and  that  of  what- 
ever is  contiguous  :  Hence,  while  I  am  environed  by 
earth  and  air,  and  all  their  secret  active  influences, 
I  wander  sorrowful  and  dejected,  devoid  of  comfort  j 
and  the  whole  universe  appears  to  me  an  insatiable 
monster,  continually  employed  in  devouring  and  re- 
gorging its  aliment. 

LETTER  XXXIV. 

August  2). 

WHEN  an  ominous  dream  awakens  me  in  the 
morning,  I  stretch  out  my  arms  to  enfold  her,  but 
she  is  not  near  me ! — When  a  pleasing  vision  has 
placed  her  at  my  side  in  the  meadows,  and  I  have 
pressed  her  hand,  imprinting  on  it  a  thousand  kisses, 
I  turn  and  look  round  for  her  in  vain! — Alas,  in 
my  slumbers,  I  fondly  think  I  touch  her ;  and  then, 
when  I  am  wholly  awake,  my  eyes  run  down  with 
tears,  and  my  heart  beats  with  anguish.  Then,  be- 
reaved of  all  comfort,  I  brood  over  the  evils  my 
invagination  anticipates. 

LETTER  XXXV. 

August  22. 

MY  situation  is  really  pitiable ! — My  energetic 
temper  has  degenerated  into  an  irksome  indolence, 
and  I  can  neither  enjoy  idleness,  nor  relish  em- 
ployment. Thinking  is  odious,  it  only  increases  my 
malady  ;  and,  insensible  to  the  charms  of  nature, 
books  to  me  are  tasteless  and  unentertaining.  One 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


master-object  sways  my  mind,  and  all,  except  that, 
forsake  me.  I  wish  frequently  that  I  were  a  me- 
chanic, that  I  might  be  employed  from  the  time  I 
arose  at  some  useful  work,  and  thus  divert  the 
gloomy  ideas  which  intrude  through  the  day.  What 
an  enviable  man  is  Albert,  busied  over  his  files  of 
papers  and  parchments !  and  how  often  do  I  say  to 
myself,  Ah!  were  I  in  his  situation  I  yhculd  be 
happy.  How  ! — in  his  situation — ah  !  then  I  should 
be  happy  ;  then  would  Charlotte— — Hold  !  no  far- 
ther at  present ! 

I  have  several  times  taken  up  my  pen  to  write  to 
the  minister  for  the  place  which  you  think  I  might, 
on  application,  obtain  ;  indeed,  from  the  kind  ad- 
vice, promises,  and  civilities  I  have  received  from 
him,  I  should  be  induced  to  flatter  myself  that  n  y 
request  would  not  be  unsuccessful.  I  know  he  lias 
several  in  his  gift,  the  service  of  which  is  neither 
irksome  nor  laborious;  but  when,  on  a  second  con- 
sideration, the  fable  of  the  horse  recurs  to  my  mh:d, 
who  had  no  sooner  submitted  to  be  bridled  and 
saddled,  than  he  regretted  the  loss  of  liberty,  I  am 
quite  undetermined  how  to  act.  Again,  my  good 
friend,  does  not  this  desire  of  change  arise  from  a 
restless  errant  disposition,  which  would  equally 
haunt  me  in  every  situation  while  I  am  under  the 
influence  of  love  ? 

LETTER  XXXVI. 

Jlugust  28. 

WERE  my  disorder  of  a  nature  to  be  relieved,  I 
should  certainly  find  a  cure  with  these  excellent 
people.  This  day,  my  friend,  gave  me  birth,  and, 
early  in  the  morning,  Albert  sent  me  a  small 
parcel ;  having  opened  it,  I  saw  one  of  the  sleeve- 
knots,  a  pale  pink  ribbon,  which  Charlotte  wore  the 
first  time  I  beheld  her,  and  which  I  have  several 
times  requested  her  to  give  me  as  a  mark  of  esteem. 
Albert  likewise  enclosed  two  volumes  of  Wetstein's 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


59 


Homer,  in  12m-o.  which  is  a  more  portable  size  than 
the  Ernesti  Edition,  and  were  what  I  had  often 
wished  for.  How  kindly  do  they  anticipate  my 
wishes  ;  how  well  do  they  understand  these  minor 
attentions  of  friendship,  so  much  more  endearing 
than  the  magnificent  gifts  of  the  great,  which  only 
humble  the  receiver.  I  pressed  the  ribbon  to  my 
lips  a  thousand  times,  and  at  every  kiss  brought 
into  memory  the  blissful  days  which  are  for  ever 
departed  ! — Ah  me  ! — my  hard  fate — but  I  will  not 
murmur  at  it.  So  do  the  sweetest  blossoms  of  life 
flourish  for  a  moment,  and  in  the  next  decay — some 
are  early  cut  off,  and  leave  not  a  vestige  behind  : 
If  a  few  set  into  fruit,  how  seldom  does  it  come  to 
perfection ;  and,  even  that  little  which  does,  is  too 
often  neglected,  and  suffered  to  perish.  The  variety 
of  seasons,  however,  must  be  taken  into  the  ac- 
count, which  are  in  fact  as  fluctuating  as  ourselves. 

Adieu.  The  weather  is  incomparably  fine.  When 
in  Charlotte's  orchard,  I  frequently  climb  one  of 
the  trees,  and  select  the  finest  pears  Tor  her,  while 
she  stands  under,  and  receives  them  in  her  apron. 

LETTER  XXXVII. 

August  30. 

WHAT  a  wretch  am  I — one  who  takes  pleasure  in 
deceiving  himself,  and  playing  the  part  of  an  idiot ' 
— Why  cherish  this  ardent  and  boundless  passion ! — ■ 
All  my  prayers  are  addressed  to  Charlotte ;  my 
fancy  hovers  round  her;  all  that  surrounds  me  is 
regarded,  only  as  it  reminds  me  of  her.  When  she 
is  with  me,  then  are  my  hours  happy ;  but,  often 
am  I  obliged  from  the  state  of  my  heart  to  sever 
myself  from  her,  when  I  have  been  seated  for  a 
time  by  her  side,  contemplating  her  fine  proportions 
and  attitudes,  and  listening  to  the  melodious  ac- 
cents of  her  voice ;  the  gust  of  delight  takes  pos- 
session of  me,  my  heart  palpitates,  my  sight  is 
confused,  and  I  become  ins  '.in  Lie  to  what  I  am,  or 


60 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


whether  I  exist : — then,  if  she  seem  cold,  if  she 
deny  me  the  melancholy  consolation  of  bathing  her 
hand  with  my  tears,  I  am  driven  to  the  necessity  of 
leaving  her : — then  do  I  stray  about  the  meadows, 
or  climb  the  steep  rocks :  I  break  through  thickets, 
and  wound  myself  with  the  thorns  and  brambles  ; 
and  thus  obtain  some  relief  to  my  anguish  by  vary- 
ing the  scene.  Sometimes,  sinking  with  fatigue  and 
thirst,  I  lie  stretched  like  a  corpse  on  the  earth ; 
sometimes,  in  the  sequestered  wood,  when  the  pale 
moon,  in  the  dead  night,  shines  serenely  on  my 
head,  I  lean  against  a  crooked  tree  to  ease  my 
weary  feet,  and  overcome  by  the  want  of  balmy  rest, 
sleep  till  the  radiant  sun  rises,  and  interrupts  my 
repose.  Ah,  my  friend,  the  deep  dungeon,  its 
chains,  its  straw,  and  even  the  rack,  would  be  a 
pleasure  to  what  I  endure  ! — Adieu.  The  grave  can 
alone  terminate  those  pangs — that  abode,  where 
every  misery  is  excluded. 

LETTER  XXXVIII. 

Sept  3. 

IT  is  decided — I  will  quit  this  place ! — I  thank 
you,  my  dear  friend,  for  your  good  counsel,  which 
has  effected  this  resolution.  I  had  determined  to 
leave  her  this  fortnight  past,  but  now  it  is  fixed. 
She  is  gone  to  town,  to  visit  an  intimate  friend,  and 
Albert — Albert  accompanies  her. — I  must  leave  this 
place  without  delay. 

LETTER  XXXIX. 

Sept.  10. 

AH,  me !  What  a  dreadful  night  have  I  passed  ! 
— Henceforward,  surely  I  shall  not  shrink  at  any 
situation  ! — My  friend,  I  shall  never  behold  her 
more  ! — Alas  !  no  more  ; — Oh  !  that  I  could  hang  on 
your  neck,  pour  my  full  heart  into  your  bosom,  and 
receive  back  your  sympathizing  consolations ! — I 
endeavour  to  calm  my  perturbed  spirits,  and  pre- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


6! 


serve  some  composure  of  mind,  at  least  till  the  day- 
light, when  I  have  ordered  post  horses,  and  hope 
to  be  far  removed  from  this  spot.  Charlotte  is  now 
in  her  slumbers — unconscious  that  she  will  never 
behold  me  again  ! — I  tore  myself  abruptly  from  her, 
and  had  that  self-command  not  to  betray  a  sus- 
picion of  my  intention,  during  a  conversation  which 
continued  two  hours. — O  heaven  ! — what  illumina- 
tion and  intellect  were  in  her  discourse  ! 

Albert  had  promised  to  meet  Charlotte  and  me 
in  the  garden,  directly  after  supper :  I  was  standing 
upon  the  terrace,  under  the  shady  chesnut-trees, 
admiring,  for  the  last  time,  the  sun's  beautiful 
descent  below  this  delightful  vale  and  rippling 
stream.  Charlotte  and  1  had  often  sauntered  on 
the  same  spot,  and  viewed  the  same  glorious  object. 
I  was  particularly  attached  to  this  place,  before  1 
knew  Charlotte  ;  a  secret  sympathy  seemed  to  bind 
ine  to  it ;  and  my  predilection  was  farther  increased, 
when  I  found  in  our  earlier  friendship,  that  she 
had  selected  this  as  her  favourite  promenade.  The 
prospect  from  under  these  chesnut-trees  is  exten- 
sive ;  but  I  need  not  state  this  here,  as  I  have  be- 
fore described  to  you  the  manner  in  which  the  lofty 
copses  close  it  in  at  the  end,  and  how  the  walk 
through  the  wood  becomes  gradually  darker  till  it 
terminates  in  a  recess,  formed  by  a  group  of  um- 
brageous trees,  adapted  for  the  indulgence  of  soli- 
tude and  contemplation. — I  still  recollect  the 
soothing  melancholy  which  filled  my  heart  on  my 
first  entrance  into  this  pensive  retreat :  it  was  then 
the  noon  of  day,  and  the  sensation  which  came 
over  my  mind  was  certainly  a  secret  presentiment 
that  it  would  one  day  be  to  me  a  scene  of  delight 
and  anguish. 

Half  an  hour  having  been  occupied  in  the  opposite 
ideas  of  my  departure  and  return,  I  heard  them  ad- 
vancing on  the  terrace,  and  flew  to  meet  them,  at 
the  same  time  trembling  bv  taking  Charlotte's  hand 
Ff 


02 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


and  kissing  it. — As  soon  as  we  had  arrived  at  the 
top  of  the  terrace,  the  moon  peeped  her  silver  edge 
over  the  pinetops  that  skirted  the  distant  mountains; 
and  we  continued  in  general  conversation,  till  we 
came  to  the  romantic  recess  at  the  end  of  the  avenue. 
Charlotte  first  entered  this  beloved  spot,  and  seated 
herself.  Albert  took  his  place  on  one  side,  and  I 
on  tile  other;  but,  such  was  the  agitation  of  my  bo- 
som, that  I  could  not  long  remain  at  ease;  I  arose, 
stood  before  her,  and  after  taking  several  turns  back- 
wards and  forwards,  again  resumed  my  seat,  full  of 
the  most  unquiet  emotions. 

Charlotte  made  us  notice  the  Heightened  effect 
which  the  moon's  light  received  at  the  end  of  the 
wood,  from  the  darkness  of  the  grove  in  which  we 
were  ;  the  gloomy  dignity  of  this  mixed  scene  was 
m  unison  with  the  melancholy  of  my  soul. — It  was-, 
my  dear  friend,  sublimity  impressive  ! — Charlotte, 
at  length,  broke  the  reverie  in  which  wc  all  seemed 
absorbed.  "  Whenever  I  walk  by  moonlight,  I  re- 
call to  memory  those  objects  whom  once  I  loved, 
and  who  are  now  no  more  ! — Those  introduce  the 
thoughts  of  death  and  a  world  to  come — Yes  !  (she 
proceeded  in  a  tone  of  assurance  and  tenderness.) 
We  shall  have  an  existence  hereafter — but  in  what 
form,  Werter  ? — Shall  we  recognize  each  other  ? — 
What  anticipations  have  you,  and  what  is  your  opi- 
nion on  this  head  ?" 

"  Charlotte,"  said  I,  holding  out  my  hand  to  her, 
and  the  tears  flowing  from  my  eyes,  "We  shall,  I 
trust,  behold  each  other  again,  both  in  this  and  a  fu- 
ture state  !" — I  could  not  proceed. — Ought  she,  my 
dear  friend,  to  have  proposed  such  a  cruel  question 
to  me,  at  the  moment  when  my  heart  was  bursting 
with  the  thought  of  separation  ? 

"  Ah !  (said  Charlotte,)  I  wonder  if  those  whom 
we  have  loved,  and  whose  memory  is  still  dear  to 
us,  are  sensible  in  their  blessed  state  of  our  regard, 
and  the  happy  hours  we  once  passed  together?— 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


C3 


When  I  am  seated  in  a  calm  evening  in  the  midst 
of  the  little  innocents  my  dear  mother  left  behind, 
and  they  assemble  round  me  as  tfeey  did  about 
her,  I  fancy  that  her  sacred  shade  hovers  over  us; 
then  do  I  raise  my  tearful  eyes  to  heaven,  and  pray 
that  she  may  behold  me  from*  her  celestial  abode, 
fulfilling  the  promise  I  made  to  her  in  her  dying 
moments,  to  be  a  mother  to  her  infants ! — Re- 
peatedly have  I  exclaimed  *  Most  excellent  of 
mothers,  pardon  my  incapacity,  if  I  am  not  to  them 
all  that  you  once  were  !' — Ah  !  if  I  am  not  all  that 
she  was,  I  strive  to  be  all  that  I  can :  I  see  they  are 
properly  clothed  and  nourished ;  and,  farther,  that 
they  are  tenderly  treated  and  carefully  educated. — 
Oh  !  could  she  but  be  sensible  of  the  harmony  which 
reigns  among  us ;  how  would  she  adore  and  bless 
that  immortal  parent  to  whom,  with  her  last  breath, 
she  addressed  such  fervent  prayers  for  our  hap- 
piness!"— She  spoke  for  some  time  longer  on  this 
theme,  but  my  pen  must  fail  in  endeavouring  to 
repeat  her  exalted  sentiments — the  energetic  lan- 
guage of  genius  and  piety  cannot  be  conveyed  by 
cold  inanimate  characters! 

Albert  here  tenderly  interrupted  her.  "  My 
lovely  Charlotte,  (s^ud  he)  you  indulge  too  much 
in  these  sensibilities  ;  it  is  true  such  recollections  are 
pleasing,  but  they  ought  to  be  seldom  touched  upon." 
"  You  cannot  forget,  Albert,  (said  she)  the  sweet  even- 
ings when  we  three  used  to  sit  at  our  little  round  table, 
in  the  absence  of  my  father,  and  after  the  children 
were  put  to  bed.  You  generally  brought  a  book  in 
your  hand,  but  you  seldom  read  any  of  it,  so  much 
preferable  was  the  intelligent  conversation  of  tha 
enlightened  woman  to  every  other  allurement.  Oh, 
what  a  model  she  was  of  serenity  and  sensibility  ! 
of  activity  and  mental  arrangement ! — Heaven  can 
witness  how  often  T  have  knelt,  and  earnestly  prayed 
that  I  might  bear  some  resemblance  to  her  perfec- 
tions I** 


64 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


Throwing  myself  at  her  feet,  I  pressed  her  hand, 
and  bathed  it  with  my  tears.  "  O  Charlotte,  Char- 
lotte !"  I  exclaimed  with  energy,  "  the  spirit  of  your 
mother,  and  the  blessing  of  heaven,  rest  upon 
you  !" — She  took  my  hand,  which,  like  hers,  was 
wet  with  tears,  and  said,  "had  you  but  known  her, 
Werter,  she  would  not  have  been  found  undeserving 
even  of  your  friendship !" — I  stood  motionless, 
overcome  with  a  sense  of  the  highest  compliment 
I  had  ever  received.  She  then  proceeded :  "  This 
most  excellent  woman  died  in  the  flower  of  life  ;  her 
youngest  child  had  scarcely  attained  its  sixth  month 
— her  illness  soon  terminated,  but  during  that  period, 
oh  !  what  calmness  and  resignation  she  displayed  ! — 
Her  principal  anxiety  arose  from  her  children,  and 
more  particularly  on  account  of  the  youngest. 
Feeling  the  indications  of  approaching  dissolution, 
she  bid  me  summon  them  to  her ; — they  came  and 
knelt  round  the  bed  of  death,  the  less  ones  insensi- 
ble of  the  loss  they  were  to  experience,  and  the  elder 
ones  sobbing  with  filial  sorrow.  She  then  extended 
her  feeble  hands  towards  heaven,  and  earnestly  en- 
treated the  great  Parent  of  all  to  be  their father;  having 
kissed  them  successively,  she  bid  them  retire,  and  ad- 
dressed me:  "Charlotte,"  said  she,  "be  to  them  a 
mother!"  I  pressed  her  hand,  in  silent  token  of  my 
assent.  "I  hope  much  from  you,  my  child  ;  even  a 
mother's  fondness  and  a  mother's  care  !  Your  filial 
obedience,  your  affectionate  and  grateful  tears, 
convince  me  that  you  already  have  a  heart  alive  to 
the  yearnings  of  maternal  tenderness — extend  it  to 
your  brothers  and  sisters;  be  as  dutiful  to  your 
father  as  you  have  been  to  me,  and  be  to  him  the 
emblem  of  a  faithful  wife,  the  solace  and  the  sun- 
shine of  his  sinking  age  !" — Here  she  inquired  for 
her  husband,  but  he  had  withdrawn  to  indulge  more 
freely  in  the  luxury  of  solitude  and  sorrow  :  he  had 
anticipated  the  loss  he  was  about  to  sustain,  and 
his  bursting  heart  was  full  of  anguish.    You,  Albert, 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


05 


were  in  the  room  at  this  time — she  heard  some  ono 
move,  and,  on  being  told  who  it  was,  desired  you 
to  come  near  her.  Gazing  on  us  for  a  few  moments 
with  a  look  of  serenity  and  delight,  she  articulated, 
"You  are  formed  for  each  other! — You  will  be 
happy  together !" — Albert,  with  a  tender  embrace, 
interrupted  her,  and  exclaimed,  "  Yes,  my  beloved 
Charlotte,  we  are  and  we  shall  be  happy  toge- 
ther !" — Even  the  stoical  Albert  was  melted  into 
softness  by  the  affecting  scene,  and  I  was  almost  in- 
sensible with  sorrow. 

"Such  was  the  woman,  Werter,  (she  continued; 
Who  was  to  be  snatched  from  her  fond  family ! — 
Gracious  heaven  !  must  we  thus  be  divided  from 
those  whom  we  most  dearly  love ! — Ah !  the  chil- 
dren's sobs  still  sound  in  my  ears  ;  they  wrept  and 
lamented  for  a  long  time  afterward,  and  innocently 
said  that  black  men  had  carried  away  their  dear 
mamma !" 

Charlotte  now  rising  from  her  seat,  I  was  reused  ; 
3'et  I  continued  to  sit,  still  holding  her  hand.  "  It 
i-s  time  to  go,  (said  she)  for  it  is  late  !" — While  she 
said  this,  she  motioned  to  withdraw  her  hand,  but  I 
held  it  more  firmly.  "  We  shall  behold  each  other 
again!"  I  exclaimed;  "we  shall  recognize  each 
other  hereafter,  whatever  be  the  form  assigned  us. 
I  leave  you — it  is  my  own  determination  ;  but,  if  I 
thought  I  were  never  to  behold  you  again,  it  would 
be  more  than  my  heart  could  bear.  Adieu,  Char- 
lotte— Farewell,  Albert ! — Ah  !  we  shall  see  e#ch 
other  again."  "O  yes!  to-morrow,  to  be  sure!" 
said  Charlotte,  with  a  smile.  That  to-morrow,  my 
dear  friend,  was  a  dagger  to  my  soul ! — Ah  !  me, 
how  reluctantly  she  seemed  to  withdraw  her  hand  ! 
—They  walked  down  the  avenue,  while  I  arose,  and 
stood  gazing  after  them  by  the  light  of  the  moon, 
till,  in  a  phrensy  of  passion,  I  projected  myself  to 
the  earth,  and  gave  vent  to  the  conflicts  that  rent 
my  bosom — I  then  started  up,  and  ran  up  the  ter- 


66 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


race,  where,  under  the  shade  of  the  lime-trees,  J 
could  still  discern  her  white  gown  moving  toward:* 
the  garden  gate.  My  arms  were  instinctively  ex- 
tended after  her,  but  in  vain  ! — The  angel  in  a  mo- 
ment after  disappeared ! 

LETTER  XL, 

October  20 

I  ARRIVED  at  this  place  yesterday  evening, 
and,  observant  of  my  promise,  write  to  you  as  early 
as  possible.  The  minister  is  indisposed  with  the 
gout,  and  tins,  of  course,  will  increase  his  native 
spleen  and  ill-humour.  I  perceive  but  too  clearly 
that  heaven  has  destined  me  to  endure  severe  trials, 
but  I  will  not  despond,  nor  be  discouraged.  I  must 
study  to  acquire  some  levity; — the  very  idea  of  this 
word,  which  has  inadvertently  escaped  my  pen, 
makes  me  smile — for  I  am  convinced  that  a  little 
of  this  light  quality  is  all  that  I  require  to  make 
me  the  most  happy  and  easy  of  mortals  I — But  why 
should  I  mistrust  the  faculties  and  powers  which 
nature  has  bestowed  on  me,  to  effect  this  purpose, 
while  I  perceive  others  of  much  weaker  intellect 
and  talent  strutting  about,  in  all  the  self-important 
pride  of  the  peacock,  with  nothing  to  render  them 
happy  but  their  gaudy  covering? — Almighty  Provi 
dence,  why  among  the  blessings  thou  hast  deigned 
to  enrich  me  with,  didst  thou  omit  those  of  confi- 
dence and  internal  serenity! — I  hear  you  whisper, 
"  Patience,  Werter,  and  all  will  soon  be  better : 
time  can  perform  wonders,  and  all  things  are  in  a 
state  of  change !" — I  will  candidly  confess,  my 
friend,  that  you  have  decided  rightly ; — for,  since 
that  I  have  been  obliged  to  mix  with  company,  and 
have  turned  my  attention  to  their  schemes,  their 
actions,  and  their  conversations,  I  have  become  less 
dissatisfied  with  myself.  As  we  naturally  draw 
comparisons  between  ourselves  and  the  objects  which 
surround  us,  our  happiness  or  misery  is  dependent 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


67 


dissatisfied  with  myself.  As  we  naturally  draw 
comparisons  between  ourselves  and  the  objects  which 
surround  us,  our  happiness  or  misery  is  dependent 
on  and  connected  with  these  ;  hence  nothing  is 
more  dangerous  to  the  gloomy  mind  than  solitude, 
which  gives  new  wings  to  the  restless  fancy,  and 
bids  it  wander  among  a  world  of  visionary  exist- 
ences, compared  to  whom  we  hold  ourselves  as  the 
most  light  and  insignificant. — All  things  appear  more 
important  than  they  really  are,  and  all  men  superior 
to  ourselves,  which  is  a  natural  operation  of  the 
mind*  We  admire  in  others  those  qualifications 
which  we  do  not  possess,  and  are  always  under- 
valuing our  own  worth: — thus  we  create  the  image 
of  a  perfect  happy  being— while,  in  fact,  the  whole 
is  a  creature  of  the  imagination. 

On  the  contrary,  however,  when  in  defiance  of 
irresolution  and  disappointment  we  earnestly  direct 
our  efforts  to  one  point,  and  never  deviate  from  the 
course  we  proposed,  it  will  be  found  that  we  have 
made  greater  progress,  though  continually  on  the 
traverse,  than  others  with  all  the  assistance  of  wind 
and  tide  ;  and  that  judgment  which  we  form  of  our- 
selves, by  a  comparison  with  others,  whether  we  keep 
on  a  line  with,  be  ahead,  or  astern  of  them,  will  be 
found  to  be  correct. 

LETTER  XLI. 

Nov.  10, 

MY  situation  every  day  becomes  more  tolerable  : 
My  time  is  constantly  occupied,  so  numerous  are 
the  actors  who  surround  me,  the  various  characters 
they  play,  and  the  amusing  diversity  of  the  scenes 
they  exhibit. — I  have  formed  an  acquaintance  with 

the  Count  of  ,  and  he  daily  increases  in  my 

esteem.  He  possesses  a  sound  understanding  and 
keen  penetration  $  yet  these  superior  qualities  have 
not  rendered  him  reserved  and  morose  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  displays  much  cheerfulness,  mildness,  and 
great  sensibility.    I  first  met  huh  in  consequence  of 


CS  SOß.lO'.VS  07  fF3&T|£fk 

gome  business  we  had  to  adjrrst,  and,  vrt  gtyolt  rar?* 
ceived  a  presentment  for  each  other :  He  spoke  to 
me  with  a  frankness  and  affability  that  demanded 
mine,  and  hence  we  laid  aside  all  ceremony,  an- 1 
conversed  on  the  most  friendly  terms.  The  unre- 
served confidence  of  such  a  mind  as  his,  while  it 
is  highly  gratifying,  has  a  tendency  to  soften  the 
pains  which  throb  in  a  heart  constituted  lik?  your 
friend's — you  have  lorn;  known  its  failings,  and  f  am 
sure  will  draw  a  veil  over  them. 

LETTER  XLI.I. 

JSTov.  11. 

1  IMAGINED  it  would  be  so — the  minister  and  1 
are  quite  dissatisfied  with  eacli  other:  ho  is  certainly 
the  most  punctilious  blockhead  existing,  anil  os  full 
of  etiquette  and  formality  as  an  old  maid.  Dis- 
satisfied with  himself,  is  it  to  be  accounted  singular 
that  he  should  not  be  pleased  with  others? — I  like 
to  proceed  in  business  with  correctness  and  des- 
patch, and  when  it  is  finished,  to  have  done  with 
it ;  but  this  is  not  his  way.  If  I  have  made  a  draft 
of  any  papers,  he  will,  on  its  being  presented,  give 
it  me  back,  saying,  "It  may  do — but  revise  it,  how- 
ever again  ;  there  is  always  some  trifle  t<5  correct — 
you  may  think  cf  a  bettor  phrase  or  a  stronger 
word."  Away  then  flies  all  my  forbearance,  and  I 
curse  him  and  his  precision.  Not  a  conjunction, 
nor  the  most  trifling  mark  must  be  omitted,  and  as 
to  those  transpositions  which  constitute  my  favour- 
ite style  of  composition,  he  detests  them.  Every  sen- 
tence must  be  agreeable  to  the  quaint  form  of  office, 
or  it  will  not  do.  Yon  know  my  utter  aversion  to 
such  barbarous  rules,  and  can  therefore  the  more 
easily  imagine  bow  much  I  suffer  from  such  a  parti- 
cular character. 

My  only  consolation  under  this  trouble  is  the 

agreeable  intimacy  I  have  formed  with  Count  , 

who  very  candidly  told  me,  the  other  day,  how 
Weary  ho  was  of  the  tardiness'  and  extrejv.s  caption 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


C9 


of  tiie  minister.  "  Persons  of  this  humour,"  said 
he,  "  not  only  are  a  burthen  to  themselves,  but  to 
all  those  who  have  transactions  with  them.  We 
have  no  remedy,  but  to  suppose  ourselves  in  the 
situation  of  a  traveller  who  is  compelled  to  go  over 
a  mountain  to  gain  his  proper  road  ;  if  the  moun- 
tain were  not  in  his  way,  Lis  path  would  be  so  much 
less  short  and  fatiguing — but,  since  it  is  so,  he  must 
patiently  travel  over  it !" 

The  old  gentleman  cces  that  I  am  a  favourite 
with  the  Count,  and  this  augments  his  dislike,  which 
lie  displays  at  every  opportunity  when  I  am  pre- 
sent, by  endeavouring  to  appreciate  him  in  my 
esteem  :  in  return,  I  defend  him,  and  that  increases 
his  displeasure.  Yesterday,  T  was  sensible  that  the 
same  stroke  he  aimed  at  my  friend,  was  meant  tft 
hit  me. — He  observed,  that  the  Count  might  do  very 
wnJl  for  the  common-place  business  of  the  world, 
that  his  style  was  tolerable,  and  he  wrote  fluently — 
but  that  he,  like  oxher  fine  geniuses,  had  no  claim 
to  solid  knowledge ! — The  tone  and  manner  in 
which  this  was  delivered,  and  the  look  that  he  fixed 
on  me,  might  be  interpreted  to  mean — the  allusion 
is  meant  for  you. — But  I  passed  it  as  a  thing  un- 
worthy my  notice — for  to  what  purpose  is  argument 
with  such  stupid  animals  ? — With  respect  to  the 
Count,  however,  I  replied  with  some  warmth,  "that 
his  understanding  and  behaviour  entitled  him  to 
the  respect  of  every  one ;  and  that  he  was  the  only 
gentleman  I  had  met  with,  who  while  he  possessed 
talents  so  superior  to  the  mass  of  mankind,  yet  re- 
tained an  equal  promptitude  in  the  despatch  of 
business."  This  was  all  algebra  to  him;  and,  to 
avoid  giving  him  any  farther  opportunity  of  inveig.h- 
ing  against  a  character  so  much  brtter  than  his,  and 
lest  his  absurdity  should  excite  my  resentment,  I 
immedi ately  wi thdre w» 

You,  my  friend,  I  must  consider  as  one  of  the 
authors  of  my  present  bondage.  You  employed 
*  G 


70 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


remonstrance  and  persuasion  in  favour  of  activity 
and  I  consented  to  wear  the  heavy  chain.  If  the 
man  who  plants  potatoes  and  carries  them  to 
market,  be  not  more  active  and  useful  than  I  am, 
then  may  I  tug  ten  years  longer  at  the  cursed  oar  to 
which  I  am  lashed ! — What  irksomenessand  insipidity 
abound  in  the  circles  of  fashionable  life — ambitious 
of  rank  and  honours,  how  do  they  toil  and  watch 
for  precedency  ! — and,  in  every  thing  they  do,  ex 
pose  their  grovelling  selfish  disposition ;  for  ex- 
ample, we  have  a  lady  here,  whose  whole  conversa- 
tion in  company  is  directed  to  impress  them  with 
the  greatness  of  her  family,  and  the  value  of  her 
estates.  A  stranger  to  this  silly  character,  would 
certainly  conclude,  on  hearing  her  boasting,  that  she 
had  at  least  some  pretence  to  rank  or  property  ;  but, 
to  render  the  ridicule  complete,  she  is  nothing  morf. 
than  the  daughter  of  a  steward's  clerk  in  the  vicinity ! 
— How  strange  is  it,  that  any  one  should  study  to  be- 
come despicable ! 

Daily  do  I  perceive  more  clearly,  my  friend,  the 
impropriety  of  making  ourselves  a  standard  to  mea- 
sure others,  seeing  that  it  is  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty I  can  repress  the  sallies  of  my  own  heated  ima 
gination,  and  calm  the  emotions  of  my  bosom.  I 
leave  every  one  to  pursue  the  path  he  has  chosen, 
let  me  only  be  indulged  with  the  same  privilege. 

I  am  principally  disgusted  with  empty  distinctions 
which  subsist  among  fellow-citizens.  I  am  perfectly 
sensible  that  an  inequality  of  condition  is  indispen- 
sable among  men  ;  and  that  I  am  myself  indebted  to 
this  system  ; — I  only  request  that  it  may  not  be  a  bar 
to  the  small  share  of  enjoyment  which  this  world  ot 
unhappiness  affords. 

In  one  of  my  bte  trips,  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  charming  Miss  B  ,  whose  unaffected  and  en- 
gaging behaviour  forms  a  lively  contrast  to  the  for- 
mality and  stiffness  of  her  neighbours  At  our  first 
meeting  we  enjoyed  a  mutually  pleas       ^.nd  unre 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


71 


strained  conversation,  and  when  we  parted,  I  en- 
treated permission  to  wait  upon  her  at  her  resi- 
dence, which  she  complied  witli  in  such  an  en- 
gaging manner,  that  I  am  impatient  till  a  proper 
opportunity  shall  enable  me  to  accept  her  invitation. 
She  is  not  a  native  of  this  place,  but  is  at  present 
with  her  aunt,  whose  pompous  countenance  dis 
gusted  me  at  the  first  view  ;  however,  for  the  young 
lady's  sake,  I  showed  her  great  respect,  and  fre- 
quently addressed  myself  to  her.  In  about  half  an 
hour  I  had  nearly  penetrated  into  all  that  her  niece 
has  since  told  me  ;  that  her  aunt,  who  is  advanced 
in  years,  and  possessed  of  a  small  income,  with  a 
less  share  of  understanding,  takes  no  other  pleasure 
Than  that  of  relating  her  long  and  illustrious  pedi- 
gree :  under  cover  of  her  nobility  of  birth  she  stands 
entrenched,  and  her  greatest  amusement  is  to  sit 
at  her  window,  and  look  down  with  imperial  con- 
tempt on  the  ignoble  heads  which  pass  under  in  the 
street.  Formerly  this  old  dame  was  accounted 
handsome  ;  and,  while  in  the  flower  of  her  spring, 
she  coquetted  with  many  a  worthy  youth  who  would 
have  married  her — this  was  her  golden  age ! — When 
her  beauty  faded,  she  was  reduced  to  accept  of  an 
old  officer,  and  serve  under  her  moroce  commander 
— this  was  her  brazen  age  ! — She  is  now  a  widow — 
and  deserted ;  and,  were  it  not  for  the  affability  of 
her  agreeable  niece,  she  would  be  altogether  for 
saken — the  last  may  be  called  her  iron  age  ! 

LETTER  XLIII. 

Jan.  8,  1772 

WHAT  kind  of  characters  are  these  ? — their  minds 
are  perpetually  occupied  about  forms  ;  they  can 
spend  a  whole  year  in  insignificantly  contriving  how 
they  may  advance  one  chair's  breadth  nearer  to 
the  upper  end  of  the  table. — But  such  triflers  are 
not  idle:  on  the  contrary,  they  add  to  their  la- 
bours by  bestowing  on  empty  pursuits  that  time 


72 


SORROWS  OF  V.ERTER. 


Mvhich  should  be  employed  in  more  important  con- 
cerns.— Last  week  a  grand  party  was  made  to  enjoy 
the  diversions  of  the  ice,  in  sledges  ;  but,  a  childish 
dispute  arising  about  precedency,  it  was  instantly 
dissolved.  "What  idiots — not  to  perceive  that  rank 
can  never  constitute  true  greatness! — lie  v\I;o  fills 
the  highest  station  is  not  always  the  principal  actcr 
— many  a  monarch  is  controlled  by  his  minister,  and 
many  a  minister  by  his  secretary.  In  such  uncer- 
tainty, who  is  to  be  called  the  grand  mover? — Cer- 
tainly it  must  be  he  who  has  the  address  and  ability 
to  bend  the  passions  and  power  of  others  to  the  pro- 
motion of  his  own  designs. 

LETTER  XLIV. 

Jan.  SO. 

THIS  letter  my  dear  Charlotte,  is  written  in  a 
humble  cottage,  to  which -I  am  indebted  for  pro- 
tection during  the  continuance  of  a  tremendous 
storm.  All  the  time  of  my  residence  in  the  dreary 
town  of  D  among  strangers — such  they  are  in- 
deed to  the  emotions  of  my  heart — I  have  not  been 
disposed  to  write  to  you  ;  but  no  sooner  had  I  en- 
tered this  secluded  hove),  against  the  little  window 
of  which  the  snow  and  hail  were  beating,  than  I 
felt  restored  to  you  and  myself.  Immediately  I  set 
foot  within,  your  figure  was  present  to  my  eyes, 
and  your  remembrance  swelled  my  heart. — Ah,  Char- 
lotte !  that  sacred  remembrance — those  endearing 
recollections! — Gracious  heaven — Oh,  that  the  first 
moment  when  I  beheld  you  could  be  restored! 

Could  you,  my  beloved  Charlotte,  but  view  me  in 
that  vortex  by  which  I  am  surrounded,  where  all 
is  dissipation,  and  to  me  vacuity  ! — Indifference 
fastens  on  me  ;  my  heart  is  unmoved — the  tear  of 
sympathy  no  longer  tfjfcps  from  my  eye,  the 
moisture  is  dried  up — I  stand  as  it  were  steadfastly 
gaping*  at  a  raree-show,  the  great  r:nd  small  pup- 
pets of  which  dance  bet'  re  my  eyes,  while  I  say  to 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


73 


myself, — is  not  all  this  a  mere  optical  deception  ? — 
These  puppets  divert  me  with  their  pranks ;  or, 
rather,  I  afford  them  a  similar  entertainment.  If  I 
take  hold  of  my  neighbour's  hand,  it  feels  like  a 
composition  of  wood,  and  I  withdraw  mine  terrified 
and  disappointed.  When  night  comes,  I  propose  to 
enjoy  the  sunrise  of  the  following  morning — but  I 
have  no  resolution  to  quit  my  bed.  I  wish  in  the 
morning  to  take  a  walk  in  the  moonlight  of  evening 
— but  something  detains  me  in  my  chamber.  I  rise 
and  go  to  bed,  without  a  consciousness  of  what  I  do 
— and  all  the  ideas  which  charm  me  at  night  and 
awaken  me  in  the  morning  speedily  vanish  away. 

There  is,  at  least  as  far  as  I  have  seen,  but  one 

female  here  (a  Miss  B  )  who  is  of  the  same  order 

of  beings  with  yourself.  She  is  your  counterpart, 
Charlotte,  if  any  one  can  be  said  to  resemble  you. 
"  Ah  !"  you  will  exclaim,  "  he  has  learned  to  make 
elegant  compliments !" — Indeed  the  remark  is  true  : 
— I  have  become  lately  extremely  polite,  not  having 
it  in  my  power  to  be  more  usefully  employed.  The 
ladies  extol  my  wit,  and  allow  that  I  am  unequalled 
in  the  art  of  flattery — "and  falsehoods" — you  will 
add  ;  for  one  is  always  the  companion  of  the  other. 

Let  me,  however,  return  to  Miss  B  .    She  is  a 

girl  of  a  lively  sensibility  and  a  superior  under- 
standing, both  of  which  are  expressed  in  her  fine 
blue  eyes.  She  finds  her  rank  burthensome,  since 
that  neither  gratifies  nor  creates  one  inclination. 
The  vacuity  of  high  life  feeds  her  contempt  of  it ; 
and  hence  we  often  indulge  for  hours  together,  in 
the  pleasures  of  imagination,  conversing  upon  tiie 
Bweets  of  tranquillity  and  rural  scenery.  This  leads 
us  to  think  of  you,  my  dear  Charlotte,  for  you  are 

not  unknown  to  Miss  B  ,  who  respects  you— 

but  her  esteem  is  voluntary,  not  exacted :  she  ad- 
mires you,  and  always  bears  me  dwell  upon  your 
name  with  pleasure. 

Would  that  I  could  be  at  vour  side,  in  that  fa/ 


74 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


vourite  little  room  where  the  dear  children  used  to 
frolic  around  us ! — When  they  were  too  tiresome, 
I  used  to  tell  them  a  story — then  they  would  sur- 
round me,  and  listen  with  such  eagerness  and  at- 
tention !  

The  sun  has  almost  descended — his  parting  beams 
still  glitter  on  the  snow  which  covers  the  face  of 
trto  country  ! — The  storm  is  past,  and  I  must  return 
to  ny  cell ;  adieu  ! — Is  Albert  with  you  ? — What 
is  he  to  you  ? — What  a  foci  am  I  to  ask  such  a  ques- 
tion ! 

LETTER  XLV. 

Feb.  17. 

A  SEPARATION  must  soon  take  place  between 
our  minister  and  I ;  for  it  is  imposible  we  can  agree 
much  longer  together.  lie  is  so  dogmatic,  his  me- 
thod of  transacting  business  so  absurd,  that  I  cannot 
refrain  from  expostulating  with  him,  and  even 
following  my  own  plans  in  opposition  to  his,  which 
he,  of  course,  reprobates  as  erroneous.  He  has 
hinted  something  about  my  refractoriness,  in  a  letter 
he  lately  sent  to  court,  and  I  have  received  a  re- 
primand from  the  prime  minister  there — couched, 
indeed,  in  very  gentle  terms — but  still  it  was  a  re- 
primand. I  had.  determined  to  send  in  my  resigna- 
tion, but  I  received  a  private  letter  from  the  same 
person,  which,  while  it  humbled  me  in  my  own 
opinion,  filled  me  with  admiration  of  the  profound, 
dignified,  and  exalted  genius,  by  which  it  was  dic- 
tated It  endeavoured  to  soothe  my  mental  irrita- 
bility by  the  most  persuasive  arguments  ;  candidly 
expressed  an  approbation  of  my  schemes,  of  their 
weight  and  influence  ;  and  condescended  to  approve 
of  that  ardency  and  impetuosity  so  natural  to  youth 
— but  then,  while  he  cautioned  me  not  to  extinguish 
this  fire,  he  charged  me  to  keep  it  within  due 
bounds,  that  it  might  not  prove  injurious  ! — Again, 
then,  I  am  at  rest  within  myself,  and  taught  to  be 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


75 


serene — at  least  for  a  week  to  come.  Contentment 
and  harmony  of  soul  are  great  blessings,  my  dear 
friend,  but  unhappily,  they  are  as  transitory  as  they 
are  precious ! 

LETTER  XLVI. 

Feb.  20. 

HEAVEN  preserve  you,  my  dear  friend !  and 
may  you  enjoy  that  happiness  which  it  withholds 
from  me! — Albert,  T  most  cordially  thank  you  for 
your  deception.  I  expected  to  have  been  informed 
of  the  nuptial  day,  and  intended  on  that  day,  (that 
day  of  bliss  for  thee  !)  to  have  taken  down  Char- 
lotte's profile  from  the  wall,  and  to  have  buried  it 
with  some  other  papers.  You  are  now  united,  and 
her  picture  remains  untouched — be  it  so  ! — Why 
should  it  not  ? — Has  Charlotte  no  room  left  for  me 
in  her  heart  ? — Yes  !  with  thy  permission,  Albert,  I 
may  still  hold  a  second  place  there. — I  will — I  must! 
If  I  thought  she  could  forget  me,  I  should  become 
distracted! — Albert, — envied  husband! — Oh,  mad- 
dening sound ! — may  you  be  happy  ! — And  you  Char- 
lotte, angelic  creature,  be  the  most  blessed  among 
women . 

LETTER  XLVII. 

March  15. 

A  SINGULAR  occurrence  has  just  happened,  the 
onsequence  of  which  must  be  my  removal ;  I  have 
exhausted  all  my  patience  and  forbearance  ;  it  is 
irremediable,  and  I  am  indebted  to  you,  my  friend, 
as  the  cause  of  all  this : — for  it  was  you  who  urged 
and  teazed  me  to  accept  a  situation  for  which  I  am 
by  no  means  qualified.  You  have  now  great  reason 
to  be  satisfied  as  well  as  I ;  but,  lest  you  may  attri- 
bute this  failure  to  the  impetuosity  of  my  disposition, 
I  will  enclose  a  plain  and  simple  statement  of  the 
whole  business 


76 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


LETTER  XLVIII. 

March. 

I  HAVE  before  repeatedly  informed  you,  that 

Count  is  very  partial  to  me.     Yesterday  I 

dined  with  him ;  it  was  a  day  on  which  none  but 
persons  of  rank  were  invited  to  meet  at  his  house. 
The  assembly  was  altogether  out  of  my  mind,  and 
much  less  did  I  reflect,  that  we  subalterns  were  to 
be  excluded.  After  dinner,  the  Count  and  I  went 
into  the  saloon,  where  we  talked  and  paraded  arm 
and  arm.  Colonel  13.  soon  after  came  in,  and  join- 
ing us,  the  time  passed  insensibly  on  till  the  nobility 
came.  Heaven  can  witness  they  were  not  in  my 
mind,  when  entered  the  Most  JVoble  and  Right 
Honourable  Lady  R.  accompanied  by  her  husband 
and  simple  daughter,  with  her  short  waist  and  fid 
bosom.  They  passed  by  me  with  a  look  of  con- 
tempt and  hauteur  that  was  evidently  meant  to  let 
me  read  my  distance.  Filled  with  disgust  at  this 
empty  class  of  beings,  I  was  about  to  withdraw, 
and  only  waited  to  make  my  bow  to  the  Count,  who 
was  detained  with  their  unmeaning  prattle,  when 
the  agreeable  Miss  B.  entered.  The  remembrance 
of  the  pleasant  conversation  we  had  enjoyed  to- 
gether, induced  me  to  alter  my  intention  of  going; 
so  placing  myself  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  I  spoke 
familiarly  with  her ;  I  was  some  time,  however,  be- 
fore I  discovered  that  her  manner  was  embarrassed, 
and  that  she  did  not  reply  with  her  usual  affability : 
the  novelty  of  the  change  excited  my  astonishment. 
"Heavens!"  exclaimed  I  inwardly,  "can  she  be 
like  the  rest !  I  should  have  quitted  the  room  if  my 
anxiety  to  ascertain  the  motive  had  not  detained  me. 
The  remainder  of  the  company  were  now  arriving. 
— I  saw  the  Baron  F —  enter  v\  ith  the  same  coat  that 
he  wore  at  the  coronation  of  Francis  I — ,  and  the 
Chancellor  and  his  old  deaf  lady,  the  Count  I — , 
and  others,  decked  out  in  their  stiff'  antiquated 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


77 


habits,  made  a  ludicrous  contrast  to  the  airy 
fashions  of  (he  present  day.  I  paid  my  respects  to 
all  those  whom  I  recognized,  and  remarked  that 
there  was  a  very  laconic  distance  in  their  answers  ; 
but  I  was  most  chagrined  at  Miss  B.'s  behaviour, 
which  chiefly  engaged  my  attention,  so  much  so, 
that  I  did  not  observe  that  the  ladies  were  all  clus- 
tered together,  whispering  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
room,  and  that  the  buz  was  general  among  the  gen- 
tlemen, while  Madam  S.  was  warmly  remonstrating 
with  the  Count  on  the  same  topic  (this  I  have  since 
been  informed  of  by  Miss  13.)  At  length  the  Count 
drew  me  to  the  window,  and  very  good  humouredly 
said,  "  Such  is  the  folly  of  etiquette,  that  some  here 
are  deeply  hurt  at  your  being  in  their  dignified 
company.    It  would  give  me  great  uneasiness  if 

 "  "I  beg  your  Excellency's  pardon,"  said  I> 

"the  impropriety  of  being  present  did  not  occur  to 
me  before;  but  I  am  sure  your  goodness  will  excuse 
this  inattention.  I  was  about  to  depart  some  little 
time  back,  but  my  evil  genius  chained  me  to  the 
spot."  I  then  bowed,  took  my  leave,  and  received 
a  friendly  shake  of  his  hand,  which  convinced  me 
that  the  step  he  had  submitted  to  was  foreign  to  his 
heart.  Having  saluted  these  honourable^,  I  threw 
myself  into  my  chaise,  and  drove  to  an  adjacent  vil- 
lage, where,  from  the  summit,  of  a  hill,  I  contem- 
plated the  setting  sun,  and  read  that  beautiful 
passage  in  my  Homer,  which  describes  the  hospitable 
reception  of  the  King  of  Ithaca  by  the  honest 
herdsmen.  Well  pleased  with  myself  I  returned, 
and,  on  entering  the  supper-room  at  night,  founr1 
only  a  few  persons  there,  who  had  turned  up  one 
corner  of  the  table-cloth,  and  were  playing  with 
dice.  The  good-natured  Adelheim  immediately  ad- 
dressed me  in  a  Whisper,  and  eaid,  "  Your's  was  a 
very  awkward  predicament  to  be  placed  in.  The 
Count,  it  is  said,  compelled  you  to  withdraw  from 
the  assembly."    "  I  value  not  the  assembly,"  said 


73 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


I,  "  I  was  happy  to  be  away  from  them  — "  I  am 
pleased  to  hear,"  said  he,  "  that  you  view  the  affair 
with  so  much  indifference  ;  as  for  me,  I  am  only  con- 
cerned that  it  should  so  soon  become  the  town- 
talk  !"  This  made  me  think  more  seriously  of  it ; 
and  I  directly  conceived,  that  every  one  who  looked 
at  me  as  we  sat  at  table,  was  inwardly  ridiculing 
me  in  his  heart,  on  account  of  what  had  passed. 
Hence  my  feelings  were  wounded  deeply,  for  I  can 
go  no  where  without  hearing  myself  pitied,  while 
my  triumphant  enemies  exclaim,  "  this  is  the  proper 
treatment  of  those  vain  plebeian  mortals,  who  affect 
to  despise  rank,  and  yet  would  elevate  themselves 
to  the  most  conspicuous  stations !" — Oh  !  I  could 
tear  out  my  heart !  Fortitude  is  certainly  one  of  the 
most  material  parts  of  philosophy — for,  though  trifles 
may  be  jested  with,  when  unproductive  of  any  bad 
consequence,  yet  if  they  be  seriously  misrepresented, 
how  is  it  possible  to  endure  the  sarcasms  and  mor 
tifications  these  paltry  slanderers  may  convey  ' 

LETTER  XLIX. 

March  15. 

NOT  a  thing  but  conspires  to  vex  me. — In  walk- 
ing out  to-day  I  met  Miss  B.  whom  I  joined,  that  I 
might  explore  the  cause  of  her  late  coolness. 
"  How  could  you,  Werter,"  said  she  earnestly, 
"you  who  know  my  sentiments,  so  misinterpret  my 
distress  ?  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  in  the  room,  I  was 
unhappy  on  your  account,  and  wished  for  an  op- 
portunity to  reveal  my  fears,  for  I  was  well  assured 

that  the  R  's  and  some  others  would  not  endure 

your  presence  in  the  assembly.  The  Count  was  very 
much  chagrined,  but  he  dared  not  to  disoblige  them. 

Besides   this,  it    is    every  where   reported  " 

"  How  reported  !"  exclaimed  I,  at  the  same  time 
endeavouring  to  stifle  my  deep  vexation.  "  Ah  !" 
said  the  amiable  girl,  and  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes, 
"  it  has  already  made  me  very  uncomfortable." 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


79 


This  involuntary  tribute  of  affection  and  sympathy 
not  only  soothed  my  indignation,  but  revived  my 
sinking  spirits;  so  pleased  was  I,  that  I  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  prostrating  myself  at  my  fair 
defender's  feet. — "  Pray  explain  yourself,"  I  re- 
joined;  and  her  tears  flowed  more  abundantly.  At 
length  she  became  more  calm,  and  having  wiped 
them  away,  proceeded ;  "  My  aunt,  Sir,  whose 
frame  of  mind  you  well  know,  was  present — Sacred 
powers  !  she  looks  upon  the  affair  in  a  most  heinous 
light ;  and  yet  is  it  not  insufferable  to  hear  her  boast 
of  her  knowledge  of  life,  of  her  equity,  sense,  and 
politeness  !  What  lectures,  Werter,  did  I  endure  last 
night  and  this  morning,  upon  my  acquaintance  with 
you!  I  was  compelled  to  hear  you  calumniated  and 
undervalued,  while  I  dared  not  utter  a  syllable  in 
reply." 

Her  words  and  manner  were  daggers  to  my  heart. 
Amiable  creature — she  was  unconscious  that  pity 
would  have  concealed  what  respect  made  her  reveal. 
She  also  detailed  all  the  misrepresentations  which 
had  been  circulated  on  the  occasion,  and  swollen  by 
the  whispers  of  malice.  The  pleasure  that  was  felt 
in  my  pride  being  humbled,  and  the  retribution  I  had 
received  for  that  contempt  of  others  with  which  I  had 
been  so  frequently  reproached.  She  spoke  this  with 
a  feeling  that  did  honour  to  her  compassion,  and 
stung  me  to  the  soul.  Since  this,  I  have  been  so 
enraged  and  desperate,  that,  could  I  have  met  vi  ith 
any  one  who  dared  to  have  made  this  event  the 
subject  of  his  ridicule,  I  should  have  sacrificed  him 
to  my  honourable  resentment.  It  would  be  a  relief 
to  devote  such  an  object  to  my  fury,  and  more  than 
once  have  I  seized  my  sword  to  give  my  full  heart 
a  vent  for  its  sorrows ! — It  is  said  somewhere  that 
there  exists  a  spirited  breed  of  horses,  who  will 
instinctively  open  a  vein  with  their  teeth,  when  they 
are  so  overheated  on  the  course  that  thev  cannot 


80 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


respire  freely.  Often  am  I  tempted  to  do  the  saniv 
thing,  and  thus  at  once  procure  for  myself  an  eternal 
remedy. 

LETTER  L. 

March  24. 

I  HAVE  at  length  remitted  a  letter  to  court,  re- 
questing leave  to  resign,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  ac- 
cepted. I  entreat  your  pardon  for  omitting  to  consult 
you  on  this  event,  but  my  continuance  in  this  place 
is  impossible.  You  I  know  would  argue  strongly 
against  the  measure :  but  were  I  to  listen  to  your 
remonstrances,  they  would  be  all  in  vain.  Pray 
break  this  news  to  my  mother  with  the  utmost  ten- 
derness and  precaution.  I,  who  am  incapable  of 
acting  for  myself,  cannot  be  expected  to  render  any 
service  to  others.  Doubtlessly  she  will  be  deeply 
afflicted  when  she  hears  that  I  have  stopped  short 
in  that  career  which  might  gradually  have  raised 
me  from  post  to  post  till  I  became  a  privy  counsel- 
lor or  prime  minister,  instead  of  sinking  into  my 
original  nothingness.  Were  you  to  argue  unceas- 
ingly, and  combine  the  most  irrcfragible  reasons  for 
my  stay,  they  would  be  unavailing.  I  am  deter- 
mined— and  that  is  my  ultimatum.  However,  as  I 
have  no  wish  to  keep  you  unacquainted  with  the 
place  of  my  destination,  I  must  tell  you  that  the 
Prince  of  is  here  :  he  has  heard  of  my  inten- 
tion to  resign,  and  being  much  pleased  with  my 
company,  has  kindly  invited  me  to  reside  with  him 
during  the  spring  months  at  his  country-seat.  lie 
has  promised  to  leave  my  inclinations  perfectly 
unbiassed,  and  as  we  agree  on  every  subject  but 
one,*  I  shall  venture  to  accompany  him.  Should  I 
change  my  mind,  you  shall  receive  a  letter  to  that 
effect. 

*  Probably  suicide. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


81 


LETTER  LI. 

April  19. 

THANKS,  my  friend,  for  your  two  consolatory 
■«*tcrs.  I  did  not  mean  to  write  to  you  till  I  had 
ireceived  my  answer  from  court.  I  was  extremely 
uneasy  lest  my  mother  should  have  interf*  ed  wkh 
the  minister  10  prevent  my  dismission  ;  but  it  is  all 
settled,  for  I  have  just  now  receive;!  it.  To  enume- 
rate the  reluctance  with  which  it  was  obtained,  or 
what  the  minister  said  in  his  letter  to  me  on  ihe  sub- 
ject, would  at  this  juncture  only  renew  your  cha- 
grin at  the  step  that  Is  past.  The  hereditary  prince 
has  presented  me  with  a  purse  of  twenty-five  ducats, 
and  enriched  it  with  such  friendly  expressions,  that 
I  was  almost  affected  to  tears — of  course  his  bounty 
will  render  unnecessary  the  loan  which  I  requested 
my  mother  to  send. 

LETTER  LIT. 

May  5. 

I  SHALL  be  on  my  journey  to-morrow ;  and  as 
the  spot  of  my  nativity  lies  but  six  miles  out  of  the 
high  road,  I  intend  to  pay  it  a  visit,  in  order  to  re- 
cal  to  memory  the  happy  days  of  childhood.  I 
shall  proceed  through  the  same  gate  under  which  I 
passed  with  my  mother,  when,  after  my  father's 
death,  she  abandoned  her  enchanting  retreat  to  be- 
come the  inhabitant  of  your  dreary  town.  Adieu, 
my  dear  friend,  and  expect  in  my  next  an  account  of 
my  excursion. 

LETTER  Llil. 

May  9. 

I  HAVE  performed  the  journey  to  my  native  soil 
with  all  the  sanctity  of  a  true  pilgrim  : — the  retro 
spect  of  many  an  innocent  scene  of  former  years 
fdled  my  heart  with  sensations  stronger  than  I  can 
express.     As  soon  as  I  drew  near  the  great  elm 

H 


C2 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


which  lies  a  quarter  of  a  league  from  the  village  on 

the  side  of  S  ,  I  alighted  from  the  carriage,  and 

directed  the  postillion  to  proceed  gently  on,  that  1 
might,  like  a  contemplative  pedestrian,  enjoy  more 
unrestrainedly  all  the  pleasures  of  former  occur- 
rences. 1  halted  under  that  same  spacious  elm 
which  in  childhood's  day  had  been  the  limit  and 
object  of  my  walks.  Ah  !  what  vicissitudes  have 
taken  place  since  that  period. — Then,  happy  in  ig- 
norance, I  sighed  for  a  world  I  knew  nothing  of, 
but  which  I  depicted  to  myself  as  strewed  with  the 
most  odoriferous  flowers,  and  abounding  in  every 
enjoyment  the  heart  of  youth  can  desire.  I  have 
been  ushered  into  that  world,  and  have  returned 
from  it ; — but  what,  my  dear  friend,  have  I  brought 
back? — Nothing  but  the  converse  of  those  delight- 
ful scenes  my  fancy  suggested — blighted  hopes  and 
ruined  peace  ! — I  have  beheld  those  distant  moun 
tains,  which  have  often  excited  in  me  the  wish  to 
travel.  For  hours  together  would  I  sit  gazing  on 
them,  ardently  longing  to  wander  among  the  deep 
woods  and  valleys  which  present  so  variegated  a 
picture  in  the  back-ground ;  and  when  the  play 
hour  was  over,  and  we  were  summoned  to  school 
or  home,  ah,  how  fondly  did  T  linger  on  the  fa- 
vourite spot ! 

As  I  drew  near  the  village,  all  the  little  gardens 
and  summer-houses  successively  appeared  to  mo 
like  old  acquaintances,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for 
many  a  day.  I  did  not  fancy  the  new  ones,  nor  the 
alterations  made  since  I  went  awaj  ;  I  entered  the 
village  through  the  gate,  and  once  more  felt  myself, 
as  it  were,  at  home  I  It  is  too  much,  my  dear  friend, 
to  relate  minutely  all  the  circumstances  which  ex- 
cited my  interest:  nor  indeed  would  they  l  eget  in 
your  bosom  those  delightful  remembrances  of  hal- 
cyon frolic  which  they  did  in  mine.  I  meant  to  have 
taken  a  lodging  in  the  market-place,  close  to  our 
old  tenement ;  but  my  intention  was  frustrated,  for 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


83 


I  found  that  the  school-room,  where  our  good  old 
governess  h' d  first  planted  in  us  the  rudiments  of 
learning,  was  converted  into  a  chandlery  shop.  I 
could  not  forget  the  sorrows  I  had  felt,  and  the  tears 
I  had  shed,  in  that  confinement.  At  every  step  some 
impressive  object  attracted  my  notice,  nor  was  ever 
pilgrim  in  the  holy. land  more  fond  of  the  sacred 
relics,  or  more  sincerely  devoted  to  them. — Among 
the  innumerable  sensations  I  felt,  I  must  select  the 
following  one  : — One  day,  having  followed  the  wind- 
ings of  a  rivulet,  which  conducted  to  a  farm  that  was 
once  my  favourite  ramble,  and  where  I  and  my 
schoolfellows  had  often  diverted  ourselves  in  mak- 
ing ducks  and  drakes  on  the  water,  or  bathing,  I  was 
suddenly  rendered  uneasy  by  the  recollection  of  the 
state  I  was  in.  I  looked  at  the  current  as  it  ap- 
proached and  passed  continually  on  ;  and  hence  I 
formed  romantic  ideas  of  the  unknown  countries  it 
was  going  to  visit,  till  my  imagination  was  exhausted, 
and  I  was  bewildered  in  the  ma^e  of  immeasurable 
distance. 

Similar  to  mine,  my  dear  friend,  were  the  notions 
of  ou*  good  ancestors.  So  when  Ulysses  speaks  of 
the  boundless  ocean  and  the  unlimited  earth,  how 
much  better  adapted  is  his  phrase  to  the  common 
capacity  of  man  than  the  pedantry  of  our  academic 
youth  of  this  age,  who,  with  all  the  gravity  of  a  phi- 
losopher, accounts  himself  a  prodigy,  because  he  ha3 
learned  from  his  tutor  that  the  universe  is  a  round 
body. 

Perceiving  that  the  objects  before  me  had  engaged 
my  attention,  and  that  I  was  in  a  train  to  recollect 
past  occurrences,  which  was  not  likely  soon  to  ter- 
minate, I  hastily  resolved  to  return  ;  and  re-entered 
my  carriage  under  a  strong  impression  of  pr.st  joys 
and  boding  sorrows. 

For  the  present  I  remain  with  the  prince  at  one 
of  his  hunting  seats.  His  frankness  and  liberality 
are  extreme,  and  with  such  a  disposition  I  cannot 


84 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


be  otherwise  than  pleasantly  circumstanced.  Therr 
is,  however,  one  foil  in  his  character,  his  credulity 
He  always  speaks  of  that  which  has  only  a  book  01 
mere  report  for  its  foundation,  and  öfters  his  de- 
cisions, without  investigation  or  experience  ;  hence 
he  views  things  in  that  same  light  in  which  they 
have  been  represented  to  him.  I  am  not  pleased 
with  the  motive  which  seems  chiefly  to  attach  him 
to  me — he  regards  only  my  talents  and  external  ac- 
complishments;  but  my  mind,  my  mental  system, 
which  is  the  spring  of  all  that  is  excellent,  of  my 
happiness,  my  sensibility,  of  every  thing  which  con- 
stitutes whatever  I  boast  that  is  amiable,  and  which 
is  solely  mine — this  is  with  him  but  a  secondary  ob- 
ject.— I,  however,  make  no  pretensions  to  superioi 
knowledge. 

LETTER  LIV. 

May  25. 

IT  was  my  intention  to  have  concealed  from  you 
a  scheme  which  I  had  projected,  till  it  was  exe- 
cuted;  but  the  design  having  failed,  the  reason  for 
withholding  it  any  longer  i3  done  away.  This  waa 
to  offer  my  service  in  the  army  ;  and  which  was  my 
chief  inducement  for  accepting  the  prince's  invita- 
tion.   He  is  a  General  in  the  service  of  the  Electoi 

of  .     I  took  an  opportunity,  in  one  of  our 

friendly  walks,  to  communicate  my  design  to  him ; 
he  disapproved  of  my  plan,  and  hence,  as  my  pro- 
motion must  have  depended  upon  his  patronage,  I 
have  quietly  acquiesced  in  the  reasons  he  urged 
against  it. 

LETTER  LV. 

June  11. 

MISER  ABLE  and  weary,  I  can  no  longer  remain 
at  this  place  ! — What  can  I  do  here  ? — I  call  mysell 
unhappy,  and  indeed,  my  friend,  I  mean  so.  The 
prince  certainly  treats  me  in  all  respect^  as  his  equal, 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER."* 


85 


but  our  minds  are  dissimilar ; — T  cannot  make  him 
my  bosom  friend! — Though  his  understanding  be 
good,  it  is  made  of  common  materials,  and  affords 
me  that  kind  of  pleasure  only  which  1  receive  from 
a  well-written  volume.  After  a  week  more  has  elapsed, 
I  shall  quit  this  place,  and  commence  a  wandering 
life,  as  before.  The  best  performances  I  have  exe- 
cuted here  are  a  few  drawings.  The  prince  pos- 
sesses some  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  which  would  be 
more  improved,  were  it  not  cramped  by  a  fondness 
for  technical  jargon  and  narrow  rules.  Sometimes 
in  the  warmest  glow  of  my  fancy,  when  I  am  be- 
stowing the  most  finished  touches  upon  the  works 
of  art  and  nature,  he  will  damp  me  Avith  his  unim- 
portant pedantic  criticisms,  (upon  which  he  highly 
esteems  himself,)  and  then  all  my  patience  is  quite 
exhausted ! 

LETTER  LVI. 

July  16. 

I  CONSIDER  myself,  my  friend,  exactly  in  the 
situation  of  a  traveller — a  humble  pilgrim — on  his 
road  through  life  ; — and  is  not  this  the  journey  which 
the  whole  world  are  engaged  in  ? 

LETTER  LVII. 

WHITHER  am  I  going  ?— I  will  intrust  you  witii 
it.    Being  compelled  to  abide  here  a  fortnight  longer, 

I  intend  after  that  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  mines  of  . 

But  this  will  never  take  place — I  only  deceive  my- 
self;— the  real  fact  is,  that  Charlotte  only  attracts 
me.  Ah !  how  unsteady  are  all  my  resolutions ; 
yet  I  am  not  the  dupe  of  juy  heart ; — I  only  listen  to 
its  dictates,  and  obey  them. 


Hh 


86 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


LETTER  LVTII. 

July  29. 

No.  no! — it  is  all  ordered  for  the  best! — What! — 
I  be  her  husband  ? — Thou  Omnipotent  power,  the 
source  of  my  being,  if  thou  hadst  destined  me  to 
the  enjoyment  of  such  a  blessing,  the  successive 
days  of  my  life  should  have  been  one  ceaseless  hymn 
of  thanksgiving  ! — But,  lie  still  my  heart! — rise  not 
against  the  government  of  Providence ! — O  may  these 
tears,  those  unavailing  sighs,  be  forgiven  ! — Ah!  had 
she  been  mine ! — then  would  my  happiness  have  been 
too  great — to  enfold  in  those  arms  the  most  perfect 
of  her  sex  ! — Albert ! — how  I  shudder  and  feel  con- 
vulsed, when  I  see  her  celestial  form  pressed  to  his 
bosom ! 

Shall  I  withhold  the  remark  I  was  going  to  make? 
— Why  should  I? — I  was  about  to  observe,  that  she 
would  have  been  more  happy  with  me  than  Albert : 
— they  were  not  formed  for  each  other ;  they  are 
paired,  not  matched.  He  is  deficient  in  that  soft 
sensibility  which  pervades  her  whole  form  and 
mind  ;  he  wants — in  short,  their  hearts  do  not  har- 
monize ! — Believe  me,  my  dear  friend,  how  often 
have  the  feelings  of  Charlotte  and  myself  risen  as  it 
were  at  the  same  mutual  impulse,  when  I  have  been 
reading  an  interesting  passage  in  some  author ! — 
How  have  we  by  looks,  far  more  expressive  than 
words,  told  each  other  all  we  thought  and  under- 
stood when  the  fictitious  situation  of  a  character  lias 
called  forth  our  admiration! — Yet  she  is  beloved  by 
Albert! — he  endeavours  to  make  her  happiness  his 
chief  study,  and  does  not  such  afFection  deserve  its 
reward  ? 

An  unseasonable  visitor  compels  me  to  interrupt 
this  letter ; — J  have  therefore  endeavoured  to  sup- 
press all  signs  of  agitation,  and  my  mind  is  now  a 
little  more  collected.    My  dearest  friend,  adieu! 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


87 


LETTER  LIX. 

•August  4. 

.  AM  not  the  only  miserable  who  endures  disap- 
pointment, whose  prospects  of  happiness  have  vanish- 
ed away.  I  have  paid  a  visit  to  the  worthy  woman 
whose  hut  is  under  the  shade  of  the  lime  trees.  The 
eldest  boy  no  sooner  saw  than  he  flew  to  meet  me, 
and  his  extravagant  joy  brought  out  his  mother.  I 
was  sorry  to  see  her  look  so  dejected,  and  asked  her 
the  reason. — "Alack !  my  good  sir,"  (said  she,)  as  the 
tears  chased  each  other  down  her  pale  cheeks,  and 
interrupted  her  speaking,  "  our  poor  little  Jackey  is 
dead!  Ah !  he  was  the  joy  and  delight  of  my  heart 
— but  he  is  gone  !"  This  was  her  youngest  child  : — 
after  a  pause  she  again  proceeded :  "  My  husband, 
too,  he  has  come  back  from*  Holland  without  any 
money.  There  he  was  seized  with  an  ague  and  fe- 
ver, and  if  it  had  not  been  for  some  kind  and  good- 
hearted  persons  who  relieved  him  on  the  way,  he 
must  have  begged  his  bread."  I  was  grieved  at  her 
hard  situation,  and  gave  some  money  to  the  little 
boy.  She  gratefully  offered  me  a  few  apples,  which 
I  accepted,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  went  away. 

LETTER  LX. 

August  21. 

My  ideas  change  with  the  velocity  of  lightning  ; 
at  one  moment  a  gleam  of  hope  irradiates  my  gloomy 
spirits,  a  transient  ray  of  comfort  dawns  upon  me — 
in  the  next  it  is  no  more  ! — When  thus  deeply  buried 
in  reveries,  I  sometimes  say  to  myself — "If  Albert 

were  to  die,  then — yes,  Charlotte  would  be  "  and, 

in  this  manner,  I  pursue  the  illusion  till  it  conducts 
me  to  the  brink  of  an  abyss,  when  I  recoil  with  such 
sudden  terror,  that,  were  I  really  in  that  dreadful 
situation,  I  should  certainly  perish.  If  I  pass  through 
the  same  gate,  or  walk  on  the  same  road,  which  first 
led  me  to  Charlotte's  residence,  my  heart  flutters 


88  SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 

and  beats,  and  I  feel  with  bitter  anguish  the  differ- 
ence between  what  I  once  was  and  what  I  now  am. 
Yes,  all  that  I  was  formerly  is  vanished ; — neither 
my  feelings  nor  the  pulsations  of  my  heart  are  the 
same — the  world  to  me  appears  with  another  aspect, 
and  my  delights  have  altered  with  it.  Could  the 
spirit  of  a  departed  prince  return  10  visit  the  superb 
edifices  which  he  had  erected  in  his  prosperous  day, 
and  bequeathed  to  his  beloved  son,  and  find  them 
overthrown  and  demolished  by  his  more  powerful 
foe,  would  not  his  sensations  be  severe  ? — Similar  to 
his  are  mine ! 

LETTER  LXI. 

Sept  3. 

IT  sometimes  appears  very  inexplicable  to  me, 
that  she  can  really  love  another !  how  she  can  pre- 
sume to  love  another,  while  she  holds  an  undivided 
dominion  in  this  breast ! — while  she  occupies  and  en- 
grosses every  avenue  to  it — while  this  mind  thinks 
only  of  her,  knows  her  alone,  and  excludes  every 
other  object  in  the  universe. 

LETTER  LXII. 

Sept.  4. 

IT  is  the  time  of  harvest,  and  nature  is  dressed 
in  gayety,  while  all  within  me  is  dark  and  gloomy 
as  winter.  When  the  yellow  lcaves.of  autumn  fall 
as  the  tree  shakes,  then  shall  I  be  white-headed,  and 
my  hair  will  come  off  by  handfuls.  I  no  longer 
see  with  my  wonted  clearness ;  my  hearing  is  indis- 
tinct, and  all  my  senses  are  injured,  feeling  ex- 
cepted, which  remains  more  poignant  than  ever!— 
I  wrote  you  in  a  recent  letter*  an  account  of  a 
rustic  swain  whom  I  met  by  accident  when  I  first 
came  to  this  place.  I  have  been  informed,  that  he 
has  been  discharged  from  his  service  ;  but  what  has 


*  Letter  X. 


SORROWS   OF  WERTER. 


31) 


befallen  him  since  I  could  not  learn  till  yesterday, 
when,  happening  to  meet  him  in  the  path  which 
conducts  to  the  next  village,  I  addressed  him  with 
that  frankness  and  earnestness  which  induced  him 
to  unbosom  to  me  his  sad  story — I  call  it  sad,  and 
such,  will  my  friend  deem  it,  I  am  sure,  when  he 
has  perused  it.  Am  I  not  to  blame  in  making  my 
friend  a  partner  in  whatever  distresses  me  ? — Why 
render  him  miserable,  and  thus  subject  myself  to  his 
commiseration  or  disapprobation  ? — I  should  not  act 
thus,  if  it  were  not  my  destiny  to  render  all  who 
know  me  unhappy ! 

He  did  not  seem  inclined  at  first  to  speak,  but,  as 
if  he  had  suddenly  thrown  aside  his  hesitation  and 
doubt,  he  entered  at  large  into  his  errors  and  mis- 
fortunes. My  powers  of  imitation  are  inadequate 
to  display  the  manner  and  accent  which  accom- 
panied his  words — uttered  with  that  wild  emotion 
and  ardent  disorder  of  the  tender  passion,  by  which 
he  had  lost  his  appetite  and  his  rest,  and  had  been 
rendered  incapable  of  the  transaction  of  business  ; 
at  least  such  was  the  state  of  his  mind,  that  he 
either  forgot  the  thing  he  was  desired  to  do,  or  did 
the  contrary.  His  mistress  loaded  him  with  her 
censures  and  reproaches;  but  it  was  her  melodious 
voice  that  he  heard,  and  he  was  happy.  He  excused 
himself  to  rne  by  saying,  that  his  evil  genius  had 
haunted  him  till  he  committed  the  act  for  which  ho 
had  justly  been  dismissed.  One  day  he  followed 
his  mistress  into  her  chamber,  or,  more  correctly,  he 
was  induced  to  enter,  and,  as  she  had  hitherto  al- 
ways negatived  his  amorous  suit,  he  was  impelled 
imperceptibly  to  gain  her  consent  by  a  more  ener- 
getic method ! — He  declared  that  his  designs  had 
always  been  founded  on  honour,  that  marriage  was 
his  aim  and  end,  and  in  the  accomplishment  of  that 
object  were  united  all  his  hopes  of  happiness.  After 
I  had  pressed  him  more  closely,  he  ceased  to  hesi- 
tate, and  confessed  that  she  had  granted  him  some 


90 


SOR.HO WS  OF  WERTER. 


liberties: — and  then,  fearful  that  he  had  said  too 
much,  justified  all  that  she  had  done,  and  vowed 
that  he  still  hr/ed  her  with  the  same  unabated  af- 
fection. Such  was  the  simple  pathos  he  intermingled 
with  his  words,  that  no  language  can  portray  it; 
yet  his  image  is  still  present  with  me.  Could  you 
behold  him,  your  pity  and  pardon  would  follow ; — 
I  feel  warmly  interested  in  his  fate — and  am  anxious 
to  excite  your  commiseration  for  a  stranger,  while 
you  are  the  dear  friend  of  one  whose  similar. lot  no 
less  demands  your  pity  ! 

In  re-perusing  this  letter.  I  perceive  that  I  have 
commenced  the  youth's  story,  and  have  omitted  to 
give  \ou  the  sequel. 

In  the  midst  of  the  struggle  between  the  young 
lover  and  the  lady,  her  brother  entered;  such  was 
the  antipathy  of  the  latter,  that  he  was  desirous  of 
seeing  him  discharged  from  the  employ  of  his  sister, 
fearful  that  if  she  married  .again,  and  had  children, 
his  own  would  be  superseded  in  the  expected  in- 
heritance of  her  property.  The  misconduct  he  had 
witnessed,  furnished  him  with  a  plausible  pretext  to 
turn  the  youth  away;  and  the  lady,  influenced  by 
the  report  which  was  in  general  circulation,  could 
not  consistently  re-engage  him  in  her  sen  ice  with- 
out staining  her  character,  or  suffering  him  to  lead 
her  to  the  altar.  Since  this  I  have  been  informed 
by  the  poor  unfortunate,  that  she  has  taken  another 
lad  in  his  place,  and  that  her  brother's  fears  are  as 
considerable  as  before,  as  it  is  currently  rumoured 
that  they  are  to  be  married.  In  such  a  case,  the 
young  man  says  the  burthen  of  his  life  would  be  in- 
supportable. 

This  love — this  invincible  passion,  is  no  fiction  of 
poetical  fancy  ; — but  is  to  be  found  with  the  poor 
and  the  ignorant  in  all  its  simple  garb.  Consider 
this  story  with  an  earliest  attention  to  whom  it  re- 
lates. Since  I  began  to  write  to  you,  I  have  felt 
more  calm  and  collected:  this  may  be  perceived  by 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


91 


the  increased  length  of  my  letter,  which  evidently 
shows  that  I  am  not  so  brief  as  1  was.  Again  I  re- 
quest you  to  consider  it  with  diligence,  and  trace 
in  those  lines  the  story  of  your  unhappy  Werter. 
Yes — I  am — and  shall  ever  be  the  same  ;  but,  when 
I  compare  the  fortitude  of  this  young  lover  with  my 
own,  I  am  compelled  to  acknowledge  with  grief  that 
ho  is  much  my  superior. 

LETTER  LXIIT. 

Sept  5. 

CHARLOTTE  wrote  to  her  husband,  after  he  had 
been  absent  a  few  days  in  the  country,  and  com- 
menced her  epistle  in  this  manner: — "  My  ever- 
dear  love,  return  the  earliest  possible — a  thousand 
good  wishes  await  you !"  Scarcely  had  she  finished, 
when  a  friend  arrived  from  Albert,  and  informed 
her  that  unavoidable  business  would  delay  Albert 
longer  than  he  intended.  This  prevented  the  des- 
patch of  the  letter,  and  thus  in  the  evening  it 
chanced  to  come  into  my  hand,  as  it  lay  open.  I 
read  it  with  a  smile  of  delight,  and  so  fervent  was 
the  kiss  of  transport  I  bestowed  on  it,  that  Charlotte 
enquired  the  cause.  "  Ah !"  I  exclaimed,  "  how 
excellent  is  imaginary  hlisa  1" — She  read  in  my 
countenance  the  construction  I  had  put  upon  her 
words,  which  had  induced  me  to  imagine  they  were 
addressed  to  myself! — She  made  no  reply  and  looked 
frowningly — that  look  of  displeasure  locked  up  my 
tongue. 

LETTER  LXIV. 

Sept.  6. 

I  REGRET  very  much  that  I  am  compelled  to  cast 
off  the  blue  coat  which  I  wore  the  first  time  I  danced 
with  Charlotte  :  it  was  so  threadbare,  it  was  im- 
possible to  appear  in  it  any  longer  ;"hut,  I  have  sub- 
stituted another  of  the  same  colour  and  fashion  in 
its  place,  with  a  waistcoat  and  breeches  of  buff 


92 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


The  new  coat,  however,  with  me,  has  none  of  the 
merit  of  the  original ;  in  short,  it  is  not  the  same ; 
but  in  time  it  may  be  as  much  esteemed. 

LETTER  LXV. 

Sept.  12. 

CHARLOTTE  went  to  her  husband,  and  was 
some  time  gone.  To-day  I  paid  her  a  visit,  and  had 
the  inexpressible  delight  of  pressing  her  hand  to  my 
lips.  As  she  stood  conversing  with  me,  a  canary 
bird,  perched  on  the  frame  of  the  looking  glass,  flew 
upon  her  shoulder.  "  Ah !  (said  she)  this  is  a  new 
friend."  She  tenderly  enticed  it  to  come  upon  her 
finger,  and  then  continued;  "Do  observe  how  fond 
it  is  of  me — how  its  little  wings  flutter,  and  it 
pecks  with  its  fine  bill,  directly  give  it  victuals — 
Look  Werter! — absolutely  the  fond  thing  is  saluting 
me!" 

The  canary,  on  seeing  the  lips  of  Charlotte  pro- 
jected towards  it,  inserted  his  bill  between  them, 
and  appeared  to  enjoy  the  sweetness  of  her  fragrant 
breath  ! — She  then  held  the  bird  to  my  face,  and 
said,  "  Werter,  it  shall  kiss  you  too  ?"  and  tha 
little  songster  did  as  she  desired.  How  delighffu. 
were  the  ideas  which  rushed  through  my  bosom  ! — 
"  Ah  !  Charlotte,"  said  I,  "  our  kisses  can  only  yield 
the  little  thing  an  imperfect  pleasure — it  asks  for  a 
more  solid  gratification — it  wants  food." — She  then 
took  a  morsel  of  bread,  and  the  bird  ate  from  her 
lips.  I  turned  aside,  unable  to  survey  with  calmness 
the  canary  and  its  mistress! — Ah,  why  does  she  so 
inconsiderately  untranquillize  my  heart  with  such 
scenes? — She  should  not  thus  awaken  its  feelings 
when  soothed  to  rest,  nor  excite  the  recollection  of 
what  is  endeavoured  to  be  forgotten  ! — But,  has  she 
not  a  right  to  act  thus  ? — It  is  the  result  of  that  con- 
fidence she  places  in  me — My  looks  show  that  I 
adore  her,  and  she  is  conscious  of  all  they  speak ! 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


93 


LETTER  LXVI. 

Sept.  15. 

WHAT  a  severe  mortification  must  the  man  of 
discernment  endure,  when  he  surveys  the  crowd  of 
abject  beings  whom  heaven  permits  to  crawl  upon 
the  earth,  regardless  of  whatever  is  interesting,  or 
admirable! — You  will  recollect  that  I  wrote  to  voj 

respecting  the  walnut-trees  at  S  ,  beneath  the 

shade  of  which  I  sat  with  Charlotte  at  the  worthy 
old  Vicar's.  They  were  the  pride,  the  beloved  orna- 
ments of  the  parsonage  yard  ! — It  was  impossible 
to  sit  under  their  venerable  broad  shelter,  without 
reverting  to  the  good  pastors  who  planted  them! 
The  schoolmaster  has  frequently,  in  the  words  of  his 
grandfather,  mentioned  the  name  of  the  person  who 
planted  the  most  ancient  of  liiem.  He  would  say, 
"  This  vicar  bore  a  most  amiable  character,  and 
under  these  trees  his  name  must  for  ever  have  been 
spoken  of  with  respect."  The  same  schoolmaster 
came  yesterday,  with  the  tears  standing  in  his  eyes, 
and  informed  me,  that  they  were  cut  down ! 
"  What!"  I  exclaimed,  "cut  down! — Would  that  I 
had  been  there,  that  1  might  in  my  fury  have  rooted 
out  the  ruffian  murderer  who  dared  to  level  the  first 
stroke! — Such  indifference  is  insufferable! — Had  I 
possessed  two  such  trees,  and  one  of  them  had  de- 
cayed only  from  mere  old  age,  I  should  have  worn 
mourning,  in  respect  to  its  memory."  It  is,  however, 
some  consolation  to  me,  that  the  whole  village 
considers  this  levelling  in  a  heinous  light ;  and  henco 
I  hope  the  good  peasants  will  withhold  their  pre 
sents  from  the  Vicar's  wife,  and  balance  the  ac- 
count to  her  disadvantage — for  it  seems  that  the 
order  came  from  her — the  wife  of  the  present  in- 
cumbent. The  worthy  old  man  fortunately  was 
levelled  before  his  trees,  and  certain  I  am  that  only 
euch  a  tall,  ghastly,  wrinkled,  worn,  hag  as  she  is — 
1 


94 


SORROWS   OF  WERTER» 


one,  who  being  always  indisposed,  is  never  disposed 
to  do  well,  who  looks  contemptuously  on  the  world, 
because  it  returns  her  the  same  favour,  an  anti- 
quated idiot,  who  pretends  to  be  learned,  is  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  canonical  books,  and  gives  her 
assistance  in  writing  ANeiv  Moral  and  Critical  Re- 
formation of  the  Christian  Religion,  and  treats  La- 
vater's  enthusiasm  with  the  greatest  scorn  ; — such 
a  creature  only,  I  repeat  it,  could  have  cut  down 
these  beautiful  walnut-trees ! — Never,  never,  my 
friend,  shall  I  forget  them,  or  forgive  her! — And 
how  do  you  think  this  stupid  woman  justifies  her 
barbarous  and  wanton  act ;  the  yard  was  continually 
made  damp  and  dirty  by  the  fallen  leaves,  the  thick 
branches  obstructed  the  fight,  the  children  threw 
stones  at  the  walnuts,  and  the  rustling  of  trees  af- 
fected her  nerves,  and  deranged  the  profundity  of 
her  meditations,  while  she  was  estimating  the  exact 
scale  of  merit  between  Kennicott,  Sender,  and 
Michaelis.  When  I  understood  that  all  the  parish- 
ioners were  irritated  at  her  egregious  conduct,  and 
more  particularly  the  old  standards,  I  demanded  the 
reason  of  their  tamely  submitting  to  such  a  mark  of 
disrespect;  but  their  answer  only  Went  to  say, 
"  That  when  the  Steward  delivers  his  order,  the 
poor  peasant  must  obey." 

I  am,  however,  in  some  measure  consoled  for  this 
village  loss  by  the  following  circumstance. — The 
Steward  and  the  Vicar,  who  intended  to  turn  this 
woman's  folly  to  their  mutual  advantage,  had  pri- 
vately agreed  to  divide  the  profit  arising  from  the 
sale  of  the  timber;  but  the  Revenue  Officer  has 
frustrated  all  the  scheme;  for,  having  had  private 
information  of  the  business,  he  has  seized  the  trees, 
and  sold  them  to  the  highest  bidder — Oh,  that  1 
were  a  powerful  monarch,  to  punish  the  Vicar,  the 
Wife,  the  Steward,  and  the  Revenue  Officer!  but, 
had  I  been  a  prince,  the  felicity  of  Charlotte's  com- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


95 


pany  under  the  umbrageous  shade  of  my  much  la- 
mented walnut-trees  would  then  have  been  unknown 
to  Werter ! 

LETTER  LXVII. 

October  10. 

THE  vicwonly  of  her  dark  piercing  eyes  gives  me 
an  inexpressible  delight.  I  am  extremely  sorry  that 
Albert  does  not  find  that  comfort  in  the  wedded 
state  which  he  expected — which  I  should  have  en- 
joyed, if — I  break  off  the  sentence,  though  I  disap- 
prove of  the  practice  ;  because  I  cannot  express  my- 
self in  any  other  manner.  Heavens!  is  it  not  already 
sufficiently  explicit ! 

LETTER  LXVIII. 

October  12. 

HOMER  has  been  superseded  in  my  heart  by  the 
divine  Ossian — Through  what  a  world  does  this 
angelic  bard  carry  me  ! — With  him  I  wander  over 
barren  wastes  and  frightful  wiles,  surrounded  by 
whirlwinds  and  hurricanes — trace  by  the'feeble  light 
of  the  moon,  the  shades  of  our  noble  ancestors — 
hear  from  the  mountainous  heights,  intermingled 
with  the  roaring  of  waves  and  cataracts,  their  plain- 
tive tones  stealing  from  the  cavernous  recesses, 
while  the  pensive  monody  of  some  love-stricken 
maiden,  who  heaves  her  departing  sighs  over  the 
moss-clothed  grave  of  the  warrior  by  whom  she 
was  adored,  makes  up  the  inarticulate  concert.  I 
trace  this  bard,  with  his  silver  locks,  as  he  wanders 
in  the  valley,  and  explores  the  footsteps  of  his  fa- 
thers ! — Alas  !  no  vestige  remains  but  their  tombs  ! — 
his  thought  then  hangs  on  the  silver  moon,  as  her 
sinking  beams  play  upon  the  rippling  main;  and 
the  remembrance  of  deeds  past  and  gone  recur  to 
the  hero's  mind — deeds  of  time?,  when  he  gloried 
in  the  approach  of  danger,  and  emulation  nerved  his 
whole  frame,  when  the  pale  orb  shone  upon  his 


SC  SORROWS  OF  WERTER 

bark,  laden  with  the  spoils  of  his  enemy,  and  illu 
minuted  Iiis  triumphant  return.  When  I  see  de- 
picted on  his  countenance  a  bosom  full  of  wo — 
when  I  behold  his  heroic  greatness  sinking  into  the 
grave,  and  he  exclaims,  as  he  throws  a  glance  at  the 
cold  sod  which  is  to  lie  upon  him,  "Hither  will  the 
traveller,  who  is  sensible  of  my  worth,  bend  his 
weary  step,  and  seek  the  soul-enlivening  bard,  the 
illustrious  son  of  Fingal :  his  foot  will  tread  upon 
my  tomb,  but  his  eyes  shall  never  behold  me!"  At 
this  time  it  is,  my  dear  friend,  that,  like  some  re- 
nowned and  chivalrous  knight,  I  could  instantly 
draw  my  sword,  rescue  my  prince  from  a  long  irk- 
some existence  of  languor  and  pain,  and  then  finish 
by  plunging  the  weapon  into  my  own  breast,  that  I 
might  accompany  the  demi-god  whom  my  hand  had 
emancipated. 

LETTER  LXIX. 

October  19. 

ALAS !  I  feel  in  my  bosom  an  indescribable  fear- 
ful vacuity ! — In  the  roving  of  amorous  fancy,  I 
sometimes  think  if  I  could  but  once,  once  only, 
clasp  her  to  my  breast,  my  every  wish  would  be 
gratified. 

LETTER  LXX. 

October  26. 

THE  opinion  which  I  had  formed,  that  the  exist- 
ence of  any  one  individual  is  of  no  consequence  to 
the  world,  I  am  now  perfectly  convinced  is  correct. 
A  friend  of  Charlotte's  called  just  now  to  pay  her  a 
visit ;  of  course,  politeness  induced  me  to  retire  to 
an  adjoining  apartment,  where  by  way  of  pastime 
I  took  up  a  book:  but  not  finding  myself  disposed 
to  read,  1  sat  down  to  address  a  few  lines  to  my 
friend,  by  which  he  will  appreciate  the  value  of 
this  present  favour.  While  I  am  thus  engaged,  I 
can  overhear  their  conversation  ; — their  topics  are 
the  common  wants  of  all  places — one  is  about  to  be 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


97 


married— a  second  is  alarmingly  ill -has  a  dreadful 
cough  and  repeated  fainting — no  hopes  of  getting 

better  in  this  world. — "Mr.  S  lies  dangerously 

ill!"  said  Charlotte.  "  So  I  hear,"  replied  her  visi- 
tor ;  "  ah  !  I  fancy  now  that  I  am  standing  by  their 
bedsides,  and  behold  them  struggling  with  the  grim 
tyrant  death,  while  the  love  of  life  prevails  in  all 
the  agonies  of  pain  and  terror,  and  induces  them  to 
wish  for  a  longer  respite."  Thus  these  worthy 
young  ladies  talk  of  their  dying  friends  with  as 
much  calmness  and  indifference,  as  if  they  were 
wholly  strangers  ! — Ah  me !  when  I  survey  the  apart- 
ments I  am  now  in,  where  Charlotte's  apparei  is  in 
one  place — on  this  table  are  her  trinkets — in  another 
part  is  Albert's  papers,  and  all  the  articles  so  fami- 
liar to  my  recollection — nay,  the  same  ink-stand  I 
at  present  use — my  mind  reverts  to  the  view  in 
which  I  am  considered  by  this  family. — With  them 
I  am  every  thing — they  esteem  me,  and  court  my 
conversation;  and  T  without  them  should  be  un- 
happy ; — yet,  certain  it  is,  were  I  to  withdraw  from 
their  social  circle,  how  long  would  they  continue 
to  regret  that  void  in  their  life  which  my  absence 
must  occasion  ?  How  long  ! — Alas  !  but  a  moment ! 
for  such  is  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  that  the 
man,  whose  presence  formed  the  highest  enjoyment 
of  others,  who  was  embosomed  in  the  breast  of  his 
dearest  friend — even  he  must  perish,  and  his  me- 
mory be  cancelled. 

L  ITER  LXXI. 

October  27. 

I  COULD  rend  asunder  this  heart,  I  could  dash 
my  head  against  tiie  wall,  when  I  am  disappointed 
in  unbosoming  myself  to  others  ;  when  I  communi- 
cate my  ideas  and  sensations  to  those  who  are  in- 
capable of  a  like  sympathy.  No  one  can  transfuse 
into  my  mind  that  love,  delight,  ardency,  or  plea- 
sure, which  it  dees  not  naturally  possess ;  nor  can 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


I,  though  I  am  alive  to  all  that  is  affectionate  and 
impassioned,  communicate  to  another  that  sensibility 
which  his  organization  is  incapable  of  receiving. 

LETTER  LXXII. 

Evening. 

IN  idea  I  am  superabundantly  supplied !  Char- 
lotte's dear  lovely  self  banishes  every  other  thought, 
and  transforms  all  around  me  into  a  Paradise— 
What  to  me  would  be  the  world  without  her? — A 
chaotic  nothing ! 

LETTER  LXXIII. 

October  30. 

A  THOUSAND  times  have  my  arms  been  tempt- 
ed to  twine  themselves  round  her  celestial  waist,  and 
clasp  her  to  my  throbbing  bosom  !  It  is  impossible 
to  be  tortured  with  the  continual  view  of  such 
charms,  and  be  forbidden  to  touch  them ! — Touching 
is  one  of  the  earliest  instincts  of  nature  !— Hence 
the  bantling  stretches  out  its  hand  to  grasp  at  the 
object  Avhich  pleases  its  fancy ;  and,  in  this  respect, 
I  resemble  it— Indeed  a  very  child  ! 

LETTER  LXXIV. 

JVov.  ?. 

REPEATEDLY  have  I  laid  my  head  on  the  pil- 
low, and  prayed,  as  my  eyes  were  closing  in  sleep, 
that  they  might  never  open  again !  The  morning 
comes ;  I  open  them ;  again  behold  the  dazzling 
sun  ;  and  return  to  my  former  wretchedness.  Oh  ! 
that  I  were  hypochondriac  or  filled  with  affecta- 
tion !— Then  might  I  ascribe  my  despond<ency  to  the 
operation  of  intemperate  seasons,  to  disappointed 
pride,  or  the  malice  of  a  persecuting  enemy ;—  and 
allege  this  insupportable  weight  of  disquietude  to 
some  other  cause  than  myself— Alas  !  I  am  too  sen- 
sibly convinced  that  in  this  bosom  originates  all  the 
unhappiness  I  feel ;  this  bosom,  which  was  or.ee 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


99 


the  seat  of  peace  and  cheerfulness,  but  now  the 
spring  whence  all  my  countless  sorrows  flow,  can  I 
be  the  same  whose  mind  was  formerly  the  nursery 
of  every  sensation  that  was  gay  and  exhilirating? — 
Who  at  every  turn  he  took  into  the  country  saw 
Paradise  in  each  prospect,  and  whose  bosom  ex- 
panded with  enthusiastic  philanthropy? — But,  ah, 
how  changed  ! — This  heart  is  callous  to  every  softer 
sensation,  dead  to  the  pleasures  of  enjoyment, — my 
eyes  can  weep  no  more — the  fountains  of  sensibility 
are  dried  up  ;  my  senses  fail  and  decay,  with  the 
powers  of  my  brain  ! — Afflicted  beyond  description, 
the  only  charm  of  life — that  boundless  busy  imagi- 
nation which  transported  me  to  worlds  of  my  own 
creation,  is  lost — departed  for  ever !  Insensibly  I 
gaze  upon  the  distant  hills  through  my  window — 
the  rising  sun  dispels  the  yielding  vapours,  and  illu- 
minates the  extensive  country  with  his  gladdening 
beams — the  murmuring  stream  gently  winds  its  way 
through  the  leafless  willows — the  exhaustless  beau- 
tics  of  nature  are  on  every  side — she  exhibits  the  most 
inimitable  subjects  for  the  scenic  pencil — but  they 
attract  me  not : — they  leave  me  blind,  insensate,  in- 
animate. On  my  knees  have  I  often  besought 
heaven  to  melt  my  callosity  of  heart  to  tears,  like 
as  the  farmer  prays  for  the  rain  to  moisten  his 
thirsty  fields.  But  I  have  learned  that  heaven  does 
not  grant  showers  or  sunshine  to  the  importunate 
intreater.— If  these  times,  the  loss  of  which  I  so 
deeply  deplore,  were  blessed,  it  was  owing  to  a 
temper  that  acquiesced  in  all  the  dispensations  of 
the  Great  Parent,  and  received  all  his  mercies  with 
gratitude. 

LETTER  LXXV. 

Nov.  8. 

CHARLOTTE  has  tenderly  reproved  me  for  my 
recent  excesses  ;  indeed,  my  dear  friend,  in  order  to 
drown  care,  I  have  for  some  time  past  made  too  free 


100 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


with  the  bottle.  "  Pray,"  said  she,  "  be  more  pru 
dent— think  of  Charlotte  !"— "  Think  of  Charlotte  !" 
exclaimed  I,  "  how  needless  is  this  advice. — I  am 
ever  thinking  of  you,  nay  more  than  thinking — I 
see  you  incessantly  before  my  eyes,  you  are  always 
in  my  heart ! — I  was  sitting  this  very  morning  on 
the  spot  where  you  rested  yesterday." — I  was  pro- 
ceeding, when  she  abruptly  introduced  another  sub- 
ject; — on  which  I  conversed — playing  like  a  pliant 
puppet  just  that  part  and  action  which  this  dear 
divine  manager  assigns  me. 

LETTER  LXXVI. 

Nov.  15. 

MY  thanks  are  due  to  you,  most  excellent  friend, 
for  the  interest  you  take  in  rendering  my  situation 
more  comfortable,  as  well  as  for  your  kind  counsel : 
— Let  me  intreat  you  to  make  yourself  easy,  and 
not  take  so  much  unnecessary  trouble  on  my  ac- 
count ! — Leave  me  to  my  miseries ! — I  am  not  yet 
so  surrounded  or  so  desponding,  that  I  cannot  en- 
dure them  to  the  end. — You  are  sensible  that  I 
have  the  most  awful  reverence  for  your  religion, 
which  is  particularly  adapted  to  strengthen  the 
weak  and  console  the  afflicted.  But  it  is  not  to  be 
expected  that  it  will  produce  this  effect  equally  on 
all. — Survey  this  vast  Universe,  and  you  will  con- 
fess there  are  millions  who  never  were  acquainted 
with  it,  and  that  to  as  many,  whether  it  be  preached 
to  them  or  not,  it  will  be  of  no  advantage. — Pray 
do  not  place  a  wrong  construction  on  what  I 
have  written. — To  me  nothing  is  more  displeasing 
than  the  idle  discussions  of  subjects  where  our 
greatest  knowledge  is  but  blindness.  What  is  the 
destiny  assigned  to  man? — what  more  than  to  fill 
up  the  measure  of  his  miseries,  and  drain  the  bitter 
cup  of  wo  :  and  if  the  inevitable  draft  was  nauseous 
to  the  Son  of  the  Omnipotent,  for  what  reason 
should  I  affect  a  sentiment  I  do  not  feel,  and  say 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


101 


my  cup  is  sweet  ?  why  start  appalled  at  the  dread- 
ful crisis  when  the  soul  hovers  between  existence 
and  annihilation ;  when  dissolution  similar  to  the 
glaring  flash  of  lightning,  shall  illuminate  the  dark 
abyss  of  futurity  ;  when  all  nature  totters,  and  the 
universe  vanishes  away ! — Behold  the  exclamation 
of  a  desponding  being,  who  is  persecuted  hope- 
lessly, and  who  sees  no  avenue  to  escape  destruc- 
tion— Shall  I  blush  to  use  this  expression,  "  My 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  !"  when 
he,  who  spreads  out  the  heavens  as  it  were  a  garment, 
uttered  it  in  all  the  terrors  of  despair? 

LETTER  LXXVI1. 

Nov.  21. 

CHARLOTTE  is  not  aware  that  she  is  preparing 
a  poison  which  may  eventually  destroy  us  both. 
The  fatal  potion  is  presented  by  her  own  hand,  and 
I  swallow  it  in  large  quantities.  Have  those  en- 
dearing looks  she  occasionally  vouchsafes  me — has 
that  attention  which  listens  to  all  the  effusions  I 
utter — that  sympathy  which  beams  in  her  expressive 
countenance — are  these  devoid  of  motive  and  mean- 
ing ?  Yesterday,  as  I  bid  her  adieu,  she  held  out 
her  hand,  and  emphatically  said,  "  Farewell,  dear 
Werter!" — Dear  Werter! — The  sound  reverberated 
through  my  whole  frame!  Dear!  it  was  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  her  apply  the  epithet  to  me. — 
The  tender  word  will  never,  never  be  forgotten,  a 
thousand  times  have  I  repeated  it  since,  and  last 
night,  when  I  went  to  rest,  I  unconsciously  ex- 
claimed, "  Good  night,  dear  Werter !" — In  a  mo- 
ment after  I  recollected  myself,  and  smiled  at  my 
own  absurdity  I 

LETTER  LXXVI1I. 

Nov.  22. 

I  FIND  it  impossible  to  pray  that  heaven  would 
make  her  mine  soon,  though  in  fancy  I  think  she  ia 


102 


SClHiOWS   OF  WtRlKt 


mine  already.  Nor  can  I  entreat  that  she  may  lie 
mine  now,  at  a  time  when  she  is  in  the  possession  of 
another! — My  sorrow  and  moans  are  equally  in- 
effectual and  unanswered.— Would  that  T  could  di- 
vide myself  from  this  weak  heart  t 

LETTER  LXXIX. 

Mv.  24. 

MY  sufferings  have  found  their  way  to  the  bosom 
of  Charlotte.  This  day  I  found  her  alone : — her 
looks  gave  me  uneasiness,  und  I  gazed  upon  her  in 
silence;  she  fixed  her  eyes  steadfastly  on  mine,  yet 
though  they  were  divested  of  that  fire  of  genius, 
which  had  hitherto  beamed  in  them,  and  the  bolder 
traits  of  beauty  had  withdrawn  from  her  face,  there 
was  an  interesting  nameless  something  left  which 
spoke  more  fascinatingly; — which  depicted  the  ex- 
pression of  compassion  and  soft  concern.  Why  did 
seme  invisible  power  withhold  me  from  kneeling  at 
her  feet;  from  pressing  her  to  my  heart,  and  re- 
paying her  tenderness  with  a  thousand  kisses? — 
While  thus  embarrassed  and  irresolute,  she  turned 
to  her  instrument,  and  in  the  sweetest  accents  of  me- 
lody accompanied  the  soothing  tones.  Her  lips 
never  looked  so  enchantingly — they  seemed  to  se- 
parate but  to  imbibe  the  mellifluous  sounds,  and 
return  them  with  a  double  sweetness  of  vibration. 
My  sensations  were  inexpressible! — rny  feelings 
were  overpowered,  and  in  a  bending  attitude,  I  just 
articulated  the  following  solemn  vow  J — "  Lips  of 
ineffable  delight,  round  which  celestial  beings  hover, 
never  will  I  dare  to  profane  you!"  The  felicity  I 
deny  myself,  I  sigh  to  taste, — but,  never! — an  etm- 
nal  partition  divides  us  ! — yet,  my  friend,  were  I 
suffered  to  dwell  on  those  lips  but  for  one  transient 
moment,  I  would  contentedly  die  and  expiate  my 
crime  in  the  next ! 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


103 


LETTER  LXXX. 

Äov.  26. 

IT  seems  to  me  that  mine  is  a  peculiar  destiny. — 
The  rest  of  the  world  are  happy,  and  I  am  the  only 
one  who  is  cursed. — Then  in  perusing  the  work  of 
some  ancient  author,  I  find  a  passage  that  appears 
to  allude  to  my  own  situation — "  When  will  there  be 
a  cessation  of  these  sorrows  ? — Where  does  there  ex- 
ist such  another  unfortunate?" 

LETTER  LXXXI. 

m>v.  no. 

THE  decree  is  past ;  my  fate  is  resolved  upon  ! — 
Every  thing  tends  to  augment  my  pangs,  and  point 
to  my  future  destiny  ! 

Not  being  able  to  relish  my  dinner  to-day,  I  arose 
from  table,  and  took  a  solitary  walk  by  the  river 
side.  The  country  wore  a  gloomy  and  deserted  ap- 
pearance ;  a  cold  easterly  wind  blew  from  the 
mountains,  and  heavy  thick  clouds  darkened  the 
plain.  As  I  walked  on,  I  perceived  a  man  at  some 
distance  clad  in  an  old  loose  garment,  apparently 
straying  among  the  rocks  in  search  of  plants. — He 
turned  round  on  hearing  my  footsteps,  and  displayed 
a  most  expressive  countenance,  in  which  was  de- 
picted the  traits  of  a  settled  melancholy.  His  fine 
black  hair  hung  in  disorder  over  his  shoulders. 
"  What  are  you  seeking  for,  friend  ?"  said  I ; — he 
replied,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I  am  looking  for  flowers, 
but  I  cannot  find  even  one."  "  This  is  not  the  sea- 
son for  flowers,"  I  rejoined.  "True,"  said  he, 
"  but  yet  many  flowers  grow  notwithstanding. — In 
my  own  garden  there  are  roses  and  lilies — one  sort 
was  given  me  by  my  father, — they  are  to  be  found 
every  where — yet,  for  a1!  I  have  been  two  whole 
days  looking  for  some,  T  cannot  find  any. — In  the 
fields  there  are  a  great  many  flowers,  yellow,  blue, 
and  red  \  and  the  centaury  too,  which  grows  in  such 


104 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


thick  pretty  clusters,  but  I  cannot  find  any."— 
"Suppose,"  said  T,  "you  had  these  flowers,  what 
do  you  intend  to  do  with  them  ?"  He  smiled,  and 
holding  up  hi3  finger,  with  an  air  of  suspicion, 
whispered, — "I  will  tell  you,  but  let  no  one  else 
know ;  T  have  promised  to  give  my  sweetheart  a 
nosegay!"'  "That  was  right,"  I  replied.  "Oh! 
she  wants  for  nothing '."  he  answered — "  for  she  is 
rich,  very  rich." — "And  yet  (interrupted  1)  she  is 
fond  of  your  nosegays  !"  "  Oh  !  (proceeded  he)  she 
has  diamonds  and  a  crown  !" — 1  enquired  her  name, 
but  he  continued  his  story  ;  "If  the  States  General 
would  but  pay  me  my  own,  I  should  become  quite 
a  different  man.  Alas!  there  was  a  time  when  I 
was  happy — happy  as  the  day  was  long  ;  but  that 
time  is  past — gone — Mown  away  !"  Ashe  said  this, 
he  raised  his  tearful  eyes  to  heaven.  "Then  (said 
J)  you  own  there  ivas  a  time  when  you  wert 
happy  !"  "  Oli !  would  that  I  had  continued  the 
same !  (he  exclaimed,)  I  was  then  happy — and  so 
cheerful,  and  contented, — just  like  a  fish  in  water!" 
An  old  woman  came  towards  us,  exclaiming, 
"Henry,  Henry,  what  are  you  doing?  I  have  been 
looking  every  where  for  you.  Come,  dinner  is  quite 
ready."  I  asked  her  if  the  young  man  was  her  son  ; 
"Yes,  alas!  (she  replied)  lie  is  my  poor  unhappy 
boy : — It  is  a  grievous  affliction,  but  heaven's  will 
be  done  !"  "  lias  he  been  long  in  this  condition  ?" 
enquired  I.  "  For  the  last  six  months  (she  replied) 
he  has  been  in  the  quiet  state  you  see  him  now.  and 
this  is  a  great  blessing !  One  whole  year  he  waa 
quite  raving  and  chained  down  in  a  madhouse  ; 
he  is  now  as  harmless  as  can  be,  and  all  he  talks 
about  is  kings  and  emperors.  Ah  !  he  was  a  dutiful 
son,  and  once  helped  to  maintain  me:  he  wrote  the 
*  finest  hand  too — but  all  of  a  sudden  he  became  low- 
spirited,  was  seized  with  a  burning  fever,  became 
quite  distracted,  and  is  always  now  just  as  you  see 
him.    Oh,  sir,  if  I  were  to  tell  you" — 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


105 


I  interrupted  her  by  my  anxiety  to  know  when  it 
was  that  he  was  so  happy,  very  happy.  "  Ah,  poor 
fellow,  (said  she,  with  a  compassionating  smile) 
that  was  the  time  he  was  so  raving,  and  chained 
to  the  floor.  That  time  he  never  ceases  to  sorrow 
for."  Astonished  and  overcome  at  this  scene,  I  put 
some  money  into  her  hand  and  departed. 

u  Then  you  icere  happy,"  said  I  to  myself,  as  I 
hastily  remeasured  my  way  back  to  the  town,  "and 
just  like  a  jish  in  ivater."  "  Gracious  powers !"  I 
exclaimed,  "is  such  the  destiny  of  mortals!  Is  man 
only  happy  before  he  is  in  the  possession  of  reason, 
and  when 'he  has  lost  it  ?  Poor  maniac  ! — and  yet  I 
think  thy  condition  is  enviable.  Not  dreaming  of 
disappointment,  thou  hast  a  way  to  gather  flowers 
for  thy  goddess — in  winter,  thou  art  troubled  be- 
cause thou  canst  not  find  any,  and  unable  to  discern 
the  cause  of  such  barrenness  ;  but,  as  for  me,  I 
saunter  about  without  hope  and  without  motive, 
and  return  as  listless  as  I  set  out.  It  appears  to 
thy  erroneous  imagination,  that,  were  the  States 
General  to  do  thee  justice,  thou  wouldst  be  a  man 
of  consequence  ;  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  thee,  that 
thou  canst  assign  thy  misfortunes  to  a  power,  foreign 
to  thyself.  Thou  art  ignorant,  nor  canst  thou  be 
made  sensible,  that  thy  wretchedness  is  generated  in 
an  inverted  mind,  a  disordered  brain,  and  that 
all  the  aid  of  earthly  power  is  insufficient  to  relieve 
thee. 

May  they  die  forsaken  by  hope,  who  ridicule  the 
F\ck  man  on  his  journey  to  distant  springs,  only  to 
increase  his  malady,  and  render  his  death  more 
painful ;  or  who  exult  over  the  guilty  soul,  which, 
to  shun  the  scourges  of  conscience,  and  procure 
some  internal  quiet,  performs  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
Holy  Land  by  way  of  penance  !  Every  rugged  path, 
each  piercing  thorn  that  lacerates  his  feet,  and 
draws  the  vital  fluid  from  the  wound,  is  a  drop  of 
balsam  to  his  mind,  and  every  night  of  his  hard 


106 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


journey  is  an  advance  to  consolation  and  pardon.— 
Ye  pompous  declaimers— -ye  who  raise  yourself  on 
stilts  to  deliver  flowery  orations — will  you  venture 
to  call  this  impulse  an  extravagance  ?— extrava- 
gance !  Thou  great  power,  who  seest  my  tears,  is 
not  the  misery  apportioned  to  us  sufficient,  without 
the  persecuting  follies  of  those  who  would  deprive 
us  of  all  consolation,  and  destroy  our  trust  in  thy 
love  and  mercy?  The  invigorating  vine,  the  bal- 
sainic  plant,  are  the  produce  of  thy  benign  hand  :— 
Relief,  and  saving  health,  emanate  from  thee!  Al- 
mighty Father !  whom  I  know  not— thou  who  once 
didst  enliven  this  gloomy  soul,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me  ! — Recall  thy  errant  servant — whisper 
peace  to  his  afflicted  bosom — to  that  soul  which 
thirsts  after  thee,  and  dreads  thy  awful  silence! 
Where  is  the  father  who  would  reject  his  son,  be- 
cause he  suddenly  rushes  into  his  presence — falls  on 
I  his  paternal  bosom,  and  exclaims,  "  O  my  dear 
father,  forgive  me,  if  I  have  erred  in  shortning  my 
journey,  and  returning  to  thee  before  the  appointed 
time ! — I  have  found  the  world  every  where  the 
same — its  labours  and  cares,  its  pleasures  and  re 
wards,  were  all  alike  indifferent  to  me.— In  thy  pre 
sence  only  is  true  unalloyed  happiness:  let  me  then 
enjoy  the  light  of  thy  countenance,  nor  spurn,  adora 
ble  father,  the  lost  child  who  seeks  thee!" 

LETTER  LXXX. 

Dec.  1. 

O,  MY  friend,  the  unfortunate  maniac  of  when 
I  spoke  of  in  my  last,  (whose  insanity  is  rather  t 
subject  of  envy  than  pity)  was  a  clerk  to  Charlotte's 
father.  He  conceived  an  unhappy  attachment  ta 
her,  which  he  long  cherished  and  concealed  in  his 
bosom,  before  he  dared  avow  it.— He  was  rejected, 
and  the  consequence  ha\ing  fallen  upon  his  Intel, 
lects,  he  is  now  such  as  I  saw  him  yesterday.  The 
brief  information  has  sunk  deeply  into  my  mind.— 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


107 


The  circumstance  was  communicated  to  me  by  Al- 
bert, with  all  that  common-place  indifference  with 
which  you  will  read  it. 

LETTER  LXXXI. 

Dec.  4. 

INDEED,  my  dear  friend,  I  can  no  longer  en- 
dure this  present  state ;  it  is  insupportable  !  I  was 
seated  this  day  by  the  side  of  Charlotte,  who  was 
playing  on  her  harpsichord,  with  indescribable  taste 
and  expression.  Her  little  sister  sat  on  my  lap, 
dressing  her  doll.— The  tears  began  to  bedew  my 
cheeks — till  at  length,  in  leaning  over  her,  her  wed- 
ding ring  attracted  my  eyes,  and  they  fell  in  pro- 
fusion. She  then  immediately  commenced  that 
seraphic  air  which  has  so  often  charmed  my  ear 
and  tranquillized  this  bosom. — It  produced  its  wont- 
ed effect  for  a  time  ;  and  then  it  served  only  to  re- 
new the  memory  of  the  happy  days  I  once  knew.— 
Sorrow  !  blighted  hopes !  Starting  up,  I  traversed 
the  room  with  hasty  strides,  and  in  an  agitated  man- 
ner I  exclaimed,  "  For  heaven's  sake,  cease  to  play 
that  tune  !"— Charlotte  stopped,  gazed  steadfastly 
on  me,  and  then  with  a  smile  that  anguished  my 
very  soul,  replied,  "  I  fear  you  are  very  ill,  Werter. 
— The  food  that  once  pleased  you  is  now  your  aver- 
sion—Go, and  endeavour,  I  entreat  you,  to  be  more 
composed."  I  tore  myself  from  her  presence- 
Heaven  sees  my  pangs,  and  will,  I  trust,  ere  long, 
terminate  them ! 

LETTER  LXXXII. 

Dec.  6. 

HER  image  incessantly  haunts  me !— Awake  or 
sleeping,  my  fancy  sees  no  other  object !— When  I 
close  my  eyes,  this  brain  is  impressed  with  the 
beauty  of  her  dark  lovely  eyes.— Here — how  shall  I 
convey  my  meaning — In  my  slumbers  her  lovely 
image  floats  upon  my  imagination  as  on  a  sea,  and 


9 


108  SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 

the  airy  form  absorbs  all  my  faculties! — What  is 
man  ?— that  self-exalted  demi-god,  whose  energies 
sunk  into  weakness  when  he  requires  them.— Whe- 
ther he  swims  in  the  stream  of  enjoyment,  or  stems 
the  current  of  misery,  he  must  one  day  be  arrested 
in  his  progress  ;  and,  while  he  is  filled  with  the 
hope  of  immortality,  he  is  certain  that  he  must  soon 
return  to  his  original  cold  existence. 

The  Editor  ( Goethe)  to  the  Reader,  with 

THE  ADDITIONAL  LETTERS. 

IN  order  to  give  a  more  circumstantial  and  con- 
nected account  of  the  close  of  Werter's  life,  I  am 
compelled  to  suspend  the  chain  of  his  correspondence 
by  the  following  narrative,  the  particulars  of  which 
were  furnished  by  the  old  Steward,  Charlotte,  Al- 
bert, his  own  servant,  and  the  people  with  whom  he 
resided. 

Werter's  unhappy  passion  for  Charlotte  had  im- 
perceptibly operated  to  weaken  the  harmony  which 
at  first  existed  between  her  and  Albert.  He  loved 
his  wife  affectionately,  but  with  moderation,  and  his 
first  zeal  had  by  degrees  yielded  to  the  attention 
requisite  on  business ;— but,  so  little  was  he  aware 
of  any  change  in  himself,  that  he  was  not  in  the 
least  sei«sible  of  any  difference  between  the  clays  of 
courtship  and  marriage:  but  the  particular  atten- 
tions of  Werter  to  his  wife  made  him  secretly  un- 
happy ;  this  conduct  was  an  infringement  of  his 
rights,  and  an  implied  censure  on  his  own  indif- 
ference.—His  dissatisfaction  was  farther  increased 
by  the  accumulating  weight  of  his  employment,  and 
the  inconsiderable  remuneration  he  received. — 
Werter's  mind,  preyed  upon  incessantly  by  sorrow, 
had  lost  all  that  fire  and  genius  it  had  once  pos- 
sessed; it  was  no  longer  vivacious  and  perceptive, 
but  in  society  appeared  inanimate  and  joyless.  The 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER.  109 

marked  alteration  could  not  but  produce  its  effect 
on  the  susceptible  mind  of  Charlotte,  which  became 
grave  and  thoughtful — an  effect  attributed  by  Al- 
bert and  Werter  to  different  causes.  The  husband 
placed  it  to  an  increasing  attachment  for  the  lover, 
and  the  latter  thought  it  arose  from  the  deep  con- 
cern she  felt  at  the  cold  behaviour  of  Albert.  A 
want  of  confidence  between  the  two  friends  gradual 
ly  took  root,  and  rendered  their  interview  irksome  to 
each  other.  If  Albert  knew  that  Werter  were  in  his 
wife's  appartment  he  avoided  entering,  and  Werter, 
sensible  that  he  disapproved  of  his  visits,  and  unable 
to  tear  himself  wholly  from  the  presence  of  Char- 
lotte, at  length  embraced  those  opportunities  of 
seeing  her  when  he  knew  Albert  was  most  occupied. 

This  privacy  increased  the  severity  and  jealousy 
of  Albert,  till  he  could  no  longer  refrain  from  re- 
buking her  on  the  subject;  urging,  that  were  it  for 
the  sake  of  her  character  only,  she  ought  to  observe 
a  less  impassioned  behaviour  towards  Werter,  and 
forbid  the  frequency  of  his  visits.  It  was  at  this 
juncture  that  Werter  meditated  the  purpose  of  sui- 
cide, which  had  long  been  a  favourite  theme  with 
him  ;  particularly  since  his  return  to  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Charlotte.  It  was  a  fancy  he  had  argued 
upon  and  justified  in  his  own  mind;  but  he  was 
unwilling  to  perform  the  fatal  act  with  precipitation 
or  rashness;— he  was  resolved  to  act  like  a  man  who 
is  the  master  of  himself,  who  can  inflict  the  blow 
with  equal  fortitude  and  serenity. 

On  the  8th  of  December  he  called  as  usual,  to 
see  Charlotte,  and  found  her  family  in  the  greatest 
consternation.  This  had  arisen  from  a  melancholy 
incident  on  the  preceding  night ;  the  murder  of  a 
poor  peasant.  At  first  Werter  took  no  particular  ac- 
count of  the  circumstance,  and,  on  entering  the 
room  where  Charlotte  and  her  father  were,  he  heard 
her  anxiously  requesting  him  not  to  indulge  his  in- 
clination of  going  abroad  to  inquire  into  the  parti- 

Kk 


110 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


culars  of  the  murder,  when  he  was  scarcely  re 
covered  from  his  late  severe  illness.  Word  was 
presently  after  brought  that  the  corpse  had  been 
found  at  daybreak,  facing  the  door  of  a  house ; 
that  the  murderer  was  not  yet  discovered,  but  very 
heavy  suspicion  had  alighted  on  a  young  man  who 
had  formerly  been  in  the  service  of  the  same  widow 
as  the  deceased  was,  and  which  he  had  quitted  with 
chagrin  and  disappointment.  This  report  awakened 
the  recollection  of  Werter,  who  started  up,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Impossible  !  I  must  set  out  for  Walheiin 
instantly  I  can't  delay  a  moment!"  This  intention 
he  carried  into  effect  immediately,  persuaded  of  the 
strong  probability  that  the  young  peasant,  whom  he 
had  several  times  before  spoken  to,  and  been  so 
pleased  with,  was  the  unhappy  criminal.  Arrived 
at  the  inn  in  Walheim,  he  found  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  place  assembled,  his  ears  were  assailed  by  a 
loud  clamour  and  shouting  at  a  distance,  which  pro- 
ceeded from  a  number  of  armed  men,  whose  manner 
indicated  that  they  had  apprehended  the  murderer. 
— There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  in  the  mind  of 
Werter.  He  directly  recognised  the  youth  who 
had  avowed  to  him  his  ardent  passion  for  the 
widow,  and  whom  he  had  but  a  short  time  before 
met,  wandering  about  with  a  countenance  expres 
sive  of  vindictive  purposes  and  secret  despair.  "  Un- 
happy youth  !"  said  Werter,  addressing  the  prisoner 
in  a  tone  of  pity  ;  "what  have  you  been  guilty  of?" 
—The  prisoner  gazed  upon  him  vacantly,  was  silent 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  No  one 
8b all  possess  her ! — Never  shall  she  be  the  wife  of 
another  !"  The  poor  wretch  was  guarded  to  the  iun, 
and  Werter  left  the  place  immediately.  The  scene 
had  such  an  effect  upon  his  mind,  already  predis- 
posed for  the  sombre  and  melancholy,  that  he  found 
its  sympathy  excited  in  the  highest  degree  ;  he  felt 
an  ardent  inclination  to  extricate  the  love-sick  lad 
from  his  awful  situation.    Criminal  as  he  certainly 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


Ill 


was,  Werter  altogether  acquitted  him  of  the  crime, 
and  having  satisfied  his  own  judgment  on  this  head, 
he  thought  he  could  make  his  innocence  as  conspi- 
cuous at  another  bar. — On  his  return,  he  flow,  al- 
most hreathless  and  exhausted,  to  the  Steward's 
office,  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  prisoner;  there  he 
unexpectedly  met  with  Albert,  whose  presence  at 
first  quite  deranged  his  purpose  ;  he,  however,  after 
a  time,  recovered  from  his  embarrassment,  and  be- 
gan with  great  animation  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the 
young  lover.  He  pleaded  with  great  pathos  and 
subtle  argument  in  his  favour,  but  the  Steward  ex- 
pressed his  disapprobation  by  shaking  his  head  fre- 
quently, and  at  last  closed  his  pleading  by  a  severe 
censure  for  attempting  the  defence  of  a  murderer. 
"  To  what  effect  would  laws  be  enacted,"  said  the 
Steward^  "  if  mercy  were  in  such  cases  to  super- 
sede justice  ?  As  a  magistrate  it  is  my  duty  to  en- 
force the  laws,  and  by  the  law  he  must  stand  or 
fall." 

Unmoved  by  this  discouragement,  Werter  repeat- 
ed his  entreaties,  and  went  so  far  as  to  hint,  that,  if 
the  lad  could  be  indulged  with  a  favourable  moment 
to  make  his  escape,  he  would  willingly  assist  him. 
During  the  time  this  was  passing,  Albert  had  stood 
silent  and  attentive,  but  he  now  replied  in  answer 
to  Werter,  and  on  the  side  of  the  Steward  ;  this  so 
deeply  wounded  Werter,  that  he  hurried  out  of  the 
room  abruptly,  scarcely  giving  the  old  gentleman 
lime  to  exclaim,  "  It  is  impossible — he  cannot  be 
saved  !" 

This  sentence  of  death  sunk  deeply  into  his  heart; 
and  the  impression  it  made  is  evident  in  the  follow- 
ing letter,  which  was  doubtless  written  on  his  return 
home,  and  was,  after  his  decease,  found  among  his 
manuscripts. 


112 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


LETTER  LXXXIII. 

UNHAPPY  youth — thy  fate  is  sealed  !— thou  art 
not  to  be  pardoned ! — Alas,  it  is  evident  that  DE- 
STRUCTION awaits  us  both  ! 

It  is  plain  that  Werter  was  deeply  affected  by 
what  had  fallen  from  Albert  before  the  Steward, 
and,  indeed,  imagined  that  his  remarks  had  been 
cniefly  pointed  at  himself ;  hence  the  supposed  sar- 
casm which  he  thought  they  conveyed,  increased  his 
resolution  to  destroy  himself ;  though,  in  fact,  if  he 
had  but  soberly  reflected,  he  must  have  been  con- 
vinced, that  the  sentiments  of  both  these  gentlemen 
were  just,  and  such  as  had  arisen  from  the  nature  of 
the  crime.  His  doubts  and  struggles  are  conspicuous 
in  the  fragment  of  a  letter,  which  was  found,  un- 
dated, with  his  other  papers,  and  appears  to  have 
been  intended  for  his  friend. 

LETTER  LXXXIV. 

HER  angelic  presence,  her  soft  looks,  her  anxiety 
for  my  welfare,  have  still  the  power  to  draw  tears 
from  my  phrenzied  moistless  brain  ! — The  poor  lad 
sunk  under  the  loss  of  his  mistress — he  could  net 
bear  that  a  rival  should  share  her  love  ! — Alas  !  the 
rigid  Steward  might  have  saved  him,  and  justice 
would  not  have  been  outraged !  It  is  only  drawing 
the  curtain,  and  passing  to  the  other  side — no  more! 
Then  whence  these  apprehensions,  these  terrors  ? 
— Because  we  know  not  what  is  behind  the  scene — 
because  there  is  no  more  returning  ! — Where  all  is 
uncertainty,  the  soul  is  lost  in  conjecture,  confusion, 
and  dismay ! 

DURING  his  secretaryship  in  the  service  of  the 
Minister,  he  had  endured  too  many  mortifications 
to  blot  them  from  bis  memory.    On  the  contrary, 


sorrows  of  werter. 


113 


whenever  he  spoke  upon  this  subject,  it  was  manifest 
that  his  pride  was  hurt,  and  he  felt  degraded:  hence 
arose  his  disgust  for  public  affairs  and  political 
transactions.  From  this  time  may  be  dated  his  con 
tempt  of  the  world,  and  the  indulgence  of  those 
eccentric  opinions  and  conceptions  which  occur  in 
his  letters,  and  which  were  augmented  by  that 
boundless  passion  which  enervated  all  his  remaining 
energies.  Placed  in  an  unvaried  changeless  situa 
tion — his  hopeless  interviews  with  the  most  amiable 
and  lovely  of  women,  whose  inward  peace  he 
wounded — his  agitation  and  struggles — and  behold- 
ing his  life  glide  away  in  nothingness — these  united, 
were  the  monster  that  drove  him  to  remove  beyond 
the  confines  of  this  wretched  world. 

The  letters  which  follow,  found  with  several  others 
after  his  decease,  clearly  indicate  the  language  of  a 
distempered  brain. 

LETTER  LXXXV. 

Dec.  12. 

I  COMPARE  my  feelings  to  those  which  must 
have  agitated  the  poor  wretches  who  were  formerly 
supposed  to  be  possessed  of  devils. — Strange  propen- 
sities and  wild  startings  seize  me — they  are  neither 
from  pain  nor  passion  ;  but  a  lurking  vindictive  rage 
which  swells  in  my  bosom,  and  almost  obstructs  my 
respiration.  When  thus  attacked,  I  quit  my  bed  in 
haste,  and  seek  relief  in  wandering  at  midnight 
-among  the  dreary  dark  scenes  which  this  steril  sea- 
son exhibits.  I  was  compelled  to  take  this  step  last 
night.  I  had  heard  that  the  river,  and  all  the  adja- 
cent brooks,  had  overflowed  their  banks,  and  that 
the  ground  from  Walheim  to  my  favourite  valley, 
was  inundated.  I  set  off  for  the  latter  at  past  eleven 
o'clock — the  view  was  awful  and  dismal — the  moon 
was  veiled  by  a  thick  cloud,  but  still  some  of  its 
scattered  beams  glittered  en  the  foaming  waves,  as 
they  burst  over  the  meadows,  and  dashed  against 


114 


SORROWS   OF  WERTER. 


the  banks  and  hedges.  The  whole  valley  resembled 
an  unquiet  sea,  agitated  by  a  howling  tempest;— 
the  moon,  now  throwing  otf  her  dark  mantle,  shone 
resplendently,  and  presented  more  perfectly  the 
picture  of  convulsed  nature.  Echo  replied  to  echo, 
and  redoubled  the  roarings  of  the  winds  and  waves. 
I  crept  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  wished — 
and  shuddered. — I  extended  my  arms — leaned  over 
— sighed  and  remained  absorbed  in  the  delightful 
idea  of  burying  all  my  woes  and  disquietudes  in  the 
watery  abyss  below  me  ! — Why  were  my  feet  im- 
moveably  fixed  to  the  spot  ?  Why  could  I  not  em- 
brace this  termination  of  my  miseries? — The  reason, 
my  dear  friend,  is  evident — my  hour  is  not  yet  come  ! 
Oh,  how  rapturously  would  I  have  thrown  off  this 
mortal  coil  to  have  incorporated  with  whirlwinds, 
to  wing  the  clouds,  and  billow  the  deep, 

1  looked  down  with  an  eye  of  sorrow  upon  one 
dear  little  spot,  where  I  once  stood  under  a  willow 
by  the  side  of  Charlotte  ;  it  was  so  hidden  hy  the 
water,  that  only  the  tree  could  scarcely  be  distin- 
guished. Then,  my  friend,  the  old  places  of  resort 
occurred  to  me — the  Steward's  house,  the  contiguous 
meadows,  the  leafy  recesses,  our  favourite  walks, 
all  perhaps  laid  waste  and  ruined  by  the  torrent ; — 
all  the  witnesses  once  of  precious  hours — the  recol- 
lection of  which  brings  madness  to  my  heart.  The 
sleeping  prisoner,  like  me,  in  his  dreams,  again  pos- 
sesses all  those  blessings  which  in  reality  he  is  de- 
prived of.  I  paused — but  no  self-reproach  is  mine 
— for  I  am  not  afraid — to  die! — and  this  is  what  1 
ought. — All  I  resemble  now  is  a  weak  tottering 
old  woman,  who  picks  up  dry  sticks  by  the  hedge 
side,  and  asks  for  alms  from  door  to  door,  to 
lengthen  out  an  existence  of  wretchedness  and 
penury 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


115 


LETTER  LXXXVL 

MY  mind  yet  remains  unaccountably  deranged. 
Have  I  one  trait  in  my  love  for  Charlotte  that  is  not 
most  chaste  and  holy  ? — Is  not  my  passion  that  of  a 
brother  for  his  sister? — Did  my  heart  ever  conceive 
a  wish  that  was  dishonourable  ?— Oaths  might  attest 
this,  but  I  need  not  resort  to  them.  And  now— 
again  a  dream !— Surely  they  speak  rationally  who 
attribute  the  conflict  of  passions  to  external  powers  ! 
—The  last  night— my  head  trembles  while  I  write- 
even  last  night  I  folded  her  in  these  arms— I  pressed 
her  to  my  doating  bosom,  and  on  her  dewy  lips  im- 
printed ardent  kisses!— In  her  amorous  eyes  love 
sat  luxuriously  playing— mine  twinkled  with  ecstasy 
Tn  recalling  to  memory  these  imaginary  transportr 
of  bliss,  am  I  guilty  of  a  crime  ?— O  Charlotte,  Char- 
lotte—my fate  is  sealed — my  brain  is  too  weak  to 
sustain  this  perturbation,  this  inversion  of  all  order 
—I  am  distracted— for  a  whole  week  I  have  not 
been  myself.  Tears  flow  from  my  eyes— to  me  all 
places  are  the  same,  for  they  are  all  devoid  of  peace  ! 
—I  am  in  want  of  nothing,  yet  T  desire  more  than 
this  world  can  give.  Alas,  it  were  better  far  to  quit 
this  scene  of  misery  without  delay. 

LETTER  LXXXVIL 

YOUR  advice  meets  with  my  thanks  and  appro- 
bation— I  must  depart— and  as  you  judiciously  re- 
mark, quit  my  present  situation  without  delay.  That 
part,  however,  which  follows,  I  do  not  entirely  ap- 
prove of.  You  wish  me  to  return  to  your  neigh- 
bourhood ;  but  I  conceive  that  one  of  my  romantic 
excursions  would  exhilarate  my  broken  spirits,  par- 
ticularly as  a  hard  frost  may  be  expected,  and  its 
constant  attendant— good  roads.  Your  friendly  pro- 
posal to  come  and  fetch  me,  is  highly  gratifying  to 


116 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


my  heart ;  but  I  must  desire  you  to  defer  this  inten- 
tion till  about  a  fortnight,  and  not  commence  your 
journey  till  you  have  received  another  letter  from  me. 
Fruit  should  continue  on  the  tree  till  it  be  ripe,  and 
in  this  respect  a  fortnight  sooner  or  later  makes  a 
great  alteration.  Desire  my  mother  not  to  forget 
me  in  her  prayers,  and  be  sure  to  inform  her,  iliat  I 
am  sincerely  eorry  for  all  the  disquietudes  I  have 
unintentionally  occasioned  her.  Unfortunate  tiiat  I 
am ! — it  has  long  been  my  doom  to  inflict  anguish 
on  those  whom  I  was  most  anxious  to  render  häppy. 
Adieu,  my  dearest  friend,  may  you  enjo}  all  the 
blessings  to  which  your  goodness  entitles  you.  I 
need  wish  you  no  more— farewell ! 

THIS  letter  was  written  on  the  Sunday  preceding 
Ohristmas  day,  and  on  the  same  evening  Werter 
went  at  dusk  to  the  house  of  Charlotte,  and  found 
her  alone.  She  was  busily  engaged,  according  to 
their  annual  custom,  in  preparing  little  presents  for 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  which  were  tobe  distributed 
on  Christmas  eve.  He  entered  into  conversation 
upon  the  delights  children  found  in  these  little  di- 
versions incident  to  the  season,  and  the  innocent 
mirth  they  occasioned.  "  Well,"  said  Charlotte, 
endeavouring  to  conceal  her  inward  agitation  with 
a  smile  of  tranquillity,  "  you  shall  have  a  present 
too,  Werter,  if  you  behave  yourself  well."  He  im- 
mediately asked,  "What  does  my  dear  Charlotte 
call  behaving  myself  well  ?" — She  replied, — "  Thurs- 
day being  Christmas  eve,  my  father  and  all  the 
children  will  be  here — and  do  you  come  too — I  have 
a  present  for  each — but  remember  not  to  come  be- 
fore Christmas  eve !" 

Werter  started  at  the  emphasis  in  uttering  this 
sentence :  he  was  about  to  reply,  but  Charlotte  pre- 
vented him,  by  repeating  in  the  same  manner,  "  I 
entreat  that  you  will  not — there  is  no  help  for  it — I 
earnestly  request,  I  claim  it  as  a  mark  of  your  friend- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


117 


ship  and  regard — for  there  are  reasons,  very  weighty- 
reasons" — then  softening  the  tone  of  her  voice  to 
mildness,  and  putting  on  the  most  enchanting  and 
persuasive  look,  she  tenderly  added, — the  favour  I 
solicit  is  for  our  mutual  serenity  and  peace ! — Ah, 
Werter — we  must  not  indulge  in  this  manner  any 
longer.  Be  firm  then — return  to  your  former  self- 
renounce  this  unhappy  passion,  this  unfortunate  at- 
tachment, that  love  which  T  cannot — dare  not  pity." 
— The  averted  face  of  Werter  convinced  Charlotte 
that  he  was  deeply  agitated,  and,  taking  him  by  the 
hand,  she  proceeded  :  "  Werter,  you  must  submit — 
nor  childishly  encourage  a  delusion  ultimately  big 
with  destruction. — Ami  not  the  wife  of  another?— 
Why  then  for  a  moment  think  of  me  ? — Ah  !  I  fear 
it  is  from  that  motive  only  Werter  pursues  this  un- 
availing passion!"  Werter  here  darted  a  frown  of 
indignation  and  disappointment  at  her,  and  exclaim- 
ed— "  This  is  not  Charlotte's  onm  sentiment." — He 
then  traversed  the  room  with  a  hurried  step,  and 
suddenly  stopping,  added,  "  No — it  is  the  little  opi- 
nion of  the  narrow  sullen  Albert!"  Charlotte,  in 
the  most  easy  manner  she  could  assume,  assured 
him  that  he  was  prejudiced  by  the  blindness  of  his 
passion ;  that  the  opinion  she  had  given  was  licrown 
—the  opinion  of  her  who  esteemed  him  for  his 
many  amiable  qualities — who  was  alive  to  his  in- 
terest, and  rendered  unhappy  by  his  indulgence  of 
an  unjustifiable  destructive  affection.  Again  she  ad- 
dressed him,  and  urged  that  he  should  think  of  her 
only  as  a  sincere  friend.  "  Reflect,"  said  she,  "  on 
the  loss  which  the  world  sustains  when  a  man  of 
such  talent  and  genius  withdraws  himself  from  it. 
Overcome  this  gloomy  tendency,  rejoin  the  circles 
cf  gayety,  and  there  select  some  object  for  your  love, 
whose  heart  is  deserving  of  yours,  and  whose  hand 
is  unfettered. — Commence  the  search  earnestly,  and 
success  will  soon  convince  you,  that  my  counsels  are 
^ood — the  experiment  is  worth  the  making,  and  if, 


118 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


nothing  result  from  it  but  the  journey  your  mind 
will  be  diverted  and  occupied. — Women  of  worth, 
beauty,  and  accomplishments,  are  to  be  found  every 
where,  and  such  a  one,  I  doubt  not,  you  may  easily 
find.  Then  return  again  to  us,  and  share  in  that 
domestic  felicity  and  harmony  which  arise  from  an 
interchange  of  pure  and  social  intercourse."  "  This 
speech,  my  dear  Charlotte,"  said  Werter,  with  an 
ironical  smile,  "  ought  to  be  published  for  the  benefit 
of  all  pedagogues  and  moralists.  Indulge  me  but  a 
short— short  time  longer,  and  then  all  will  be  well 
again — "  "  But  remember,  Werter,  you  are  not 
lo  see  me  before  Christmas  eve."  He  was  about  to 
reply,  but  Albert  unexpectedly  came  in. — They  sa- 
luted each  other  with  great  coldness,  and  Werter  in 
apparent  embarrassment  walked  up  and  down  the 
room.  They  talked  upon  indifferent  topics,  in  which 
they  had  no  interest,  till  Albert  demanded  of  his 
wife,  if  she  had  attended  to  the  execution  of  some 
trifling  commissions  which  he  had  intrusted  to  her 
to  do ;  upon  her  replying  in  the  negative,  he  burst 
into  such  a  train  of  galling  reproach,  that  it  cut 
Werter  to  the  heart.  He  was  anxious  to  go,  but  he 
wanted  resolution,  and  in  this  unpleasant,  situation 
he  remained  till  eight  o'clock,  a  prey  to  his  increas- 
ing acrimony  and  irritability  of  temper.  When  the 
cloth  was  laid  by  the  servant,  he  took  his  leave,  in 
consequence  of  the  pointed  formality  with  which 
Albert  asked  him  to  take  supper. 

Oppressed  with  melancholy,  and  moving  with  a 
measured  step,  Werter  returned  home,  and  taking 
the  candle  from  his  servant,  retired,  silently  and 
alone,  to  his  chamber.  He  was  heard  to  weep  and 
talk  with  great  earnestness,  and  to  pace  hastily  up 
and  down  his  room.  He  afterward  threw  himself, 
undressed,  on  the  bed,  in  which  state  his  servant 
found  him  at  eleven  o'clock,  who  then  ventured  in, 
and  was  permitted  to  draw  off  his  boots,  but  receiv- 
ed a  particular  charge  not  to  come  in  again  till  he 
rung  for  him. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


119 


On  Monday  morning,  December  the  21st,  he  wrote 
the  following  letter,  Avhieh  was  found  sealed  in  his 
bureau,  after  his  death,  and  given  to  Charlotte.  It 
is  here  presented  in  the  unconnected  manner  in 
which  it  appears  to  have  been  originally  written. 

LETTER  LXXXVIII. 

Dearest  Charlotte, 
THE  scene  closes— the  fatal  determination  is  taken, 
and  death  stands  ready  to  strike ! — I  tell  you  this 
with  composure  and  deliberation,  apart  from  all  the 
impulse  of  violent  transport  or  disappointed  passion  ! 
At  the  moment  when  these  last  sad  lines  will  meet 
your  weeping  eyes,  then  O  most  lovely  and  amiable 
of  women,  will  the  inanimate  form  of  him  whose 
highest  bliss  in  the  last  moments  of  his  life  was  to 
see  and  converse  with  you,  be  deposited  in  the  cold 
grave  ! — Ah,  what  a  night  has  this  convulsed  bosom 
endured  ! — no — rather  let  me  call  it  the  happy  night 
that  leads  to  an  endless  day  of  peace,  since  it  has 
banished  al'lmy  irresolution,  and  fixed  the  period  of 
my  existence  1  I  am  resolved  on  death  ! — When  I 
tore  myself  away  from  you  yesterday,  my  senses, 
like  the  elements,  were  jarring  and  portentous  :  my 
heart  was  depressed — no  hope,  no  beam  of  comfort 
irradiated  this  dark  mind — but  ice,  cold  ice,  seemed 
to  compose  my  wretched  frame  !  With  great  efforts 
T  reached  home.  Directly  I  entered  my  apartment, 
I  fell  on  my  knees  to  pray,  and  heaven,  as  a  last  fa- 
vour, was  pleased  to  grant  me  the  consolation  of 
shedding  tears ! — My  distracted  soul  was  hurried  by 
a  thousand  fancies— a  thousand  projects  rushed  suc- 
cessively through  my  brain — then  came  the  last — 
last  one — often  the  subject  of  former  contemplation, 
and  now  of  unalterable  decision — DEATH ! ! ! — It 
is  not  despair,  but  the  assurance  that  life  for  me 
contains  nothing  worthy  of  possessing.  The  cup  of 
wo  is  full  —the  measure  of  my  sufferings  is  complete 


120 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


— I  have  therefore  reached  the  gate  of  death,  and 
that  awful  bourn  must  be  passed  for  the  happiness 
of—  you,  my  dearest  Charlotte  ! — Yes,  for  that  must 
one  of  the  three  perish! — and  shall  Werter  shrink 
from  being  the  sacrifice  ? — O,  thou  soul  of  celestial 
goodness,  how  shall  I  dare  to  avow,  that  my  racked 
mind,  impelled  by  madness  and  jealousy,  has  more 
than  once  conceived  the  horrid  infernal  idea  of  mur- 
dering your  husband!*  Abandoned  as  I  am, justice 
demands  that  I  should  cease  to  exist ! 

Werter  rung  for  his  servant,  about  ten  in  the 
morning,  and  on  his  coming  in  told  him,  he  wa3 
about  to  take  a  long  journey  in  a  few  days,  and 
therefore  desired  that  his  clothes  might  be  put  in 
order,  his  bills  called  in  and  discharged,  some  books 
be  collected  which  he  had  lent,  and  two  months 
allowance  be  advanced  to  all  the  poor  people  who 
received  weekly  assistance  from  him.  Having  break- 
fasted in  his  room,  he  ordered  his  horse  and  rode 
to  the  Steward's,  who  happened  not  to  be  at  home. 
He  then  took  a  pensive  walk  in  the  garden,  and 
seemed  to  brood  over  all  the  ideas  which  it  would 
naturally  suggest.  No  sooner  were  the  children 
apprised  of  his  visit  than  they  broke  in  upon  his 
solitude,  and  came  skipping  and  dancing  to  tell  him, 
that  "  when  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  one 
day  more  was  gone,  their  sister  was  to  give  them  a 
Christmas  gift  a-piece  !" — after  which  they  began  to 
describe  to  him  all  the  nice  things  and  mirth  tin  ir 
little  fancies  had  depicted  on  that  festive  occasion. 
"To-morrow,"  said  Werter,  "  and  to-morrow,  anil 
one  day  more!" — and  he  kissed  all  of  them  tenderly. 
The  youngest  boy,  seeing  him  prepared  to  go,  stopped 
him  to  whisper,  that  his  eldest  brother  had  written 
some  very  pretty  lines  upon  the  new  year,  and  all 
friends  were  to  have  a  copy — one  for  papa,  one  for 
Charlotte  and  Albert,  and  one  for  Mr.  Werter  too — 
to  be  presented  early  on  New-year's  day. 

*  Werter  perhaps  imbibed  this  idea  from  the  young  man  who 
was  in  love  with  his  widow  mistress,  and  murdered  her  servant 
his  rival. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


121 


This  last  intention  overpowered  his  feelings — his 
fortitude  forsook  him,  and  giving  each  of  the  chil- 
dren a  trifle,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and,  bidding 
them  remember  him  kindiy  to  their  father,  he  rode 
off  with  a  full  heart ! — He  reached  home  about  five 
o'clock,  and  directed  his  servant  to  keep  up  the  fire, 
to  place  his  books  and  linen  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trunk,  and  lay  Iiis  clothes  over  them.  The  follow- 
ing fragment  appears  to  have  been  written  the  same 
evening.  , 

Beloved, 

YOU  do  not  expect  to  see  me! — you  are  certain 
that  I  shall  not  disobey  you,  nor  see  you  before 
Christmas  eve.  Dear  angel  to-day  or  never! — On 
Christmas  eve  you  will  clasp  this  paper  to  your 
bosom,  and  lave  it  with  your  flowing  tears! — It  is 
decreed,  Charlotte,  and  I  feel  relieved ! — I  am  more 
collected  since  I  have  resolved  upon  death  ! 

ABOUT  six  o'clock  he  repaired  to  Albert's,  and 
found  Charlotte  at  home,  and  alone:  she  would 
have  been  denied,  had  he  not  prevented  it  by  coming 
too  hastily  into  the  room.  She  was  exceedingly 
shocked  at  his  visit,  as  she  had  assured  her  husband 
in  a  late  conversation,  that  Werter  would  not  call 
again  till  Christmas  eve,  in  consequence  of  which 
Albert,  regardless  of  the  rain,  set  out  on  horseback 
to  settle  some  business  with  a  neighbouring  steward. 
He  had  for  a  long  time  postponed  this  journey, 
which  was  too  distant  to  prevent  his  returning  the 
same  night.  This  delay  had  deeply  chagrined  her, 
since  it  had  arisen  from  a  want  of  confidence  in  her 
conduct.  Alone  and  full  of  serious  meditations  on 
past  occurrences,  she  turned  an  eye  of  examination 
into  her  own  conduct,  and  that  of  Albert,  whose 
suspicions  were  now  the  cause  of  her  wretchedness. 
In  neither,  however,  could  she  find  any  just  reason 


V 


122 


SORROWS  OF  "WERTER. 


for  reproach — Werter  came  next  into  review,  in 
whom  she  saw  much  to  blame,  but  nothing  to  hate. 
From  their  earliest  acquaintance  she  had  felt  a 
sympathetic  attraction  prevail  in  her  bosom,  and  this 
preference,  by  repeated  attentions,  and  a  mutual 
susceptibility  of  mind,  displayed  in  so  long  and 
familiar  an  intimacy,  at  length  was  indelibly  im- 
printed on  her  heart! — Her  over-charged  feelings 
and  tender  sorrows  had  just  found  some  alleviation 
in  a  shower  of  tears,  when  she  heard  Werter  running 
up  stairs,  at  the  same  time  asking  the  question,  if 
she  were  at  home,  without  waiting  for  the  answer. 
As  soon  as  he  entered,  she  said  to  him,  in  a  con- 
fused and  severe  manner,  "  Werter,  you  have  for- 
feited your  word  !"  "  I  did  not  make  any  promise," 
he  replied.  "  Ah  !"  rejoined  Charlotte,  "  for  both 
our  sakes,  you  should  have  obeyed  my  earnest  re- 
quest." She  now  prudently  despatched  the  servant 
to  invite  some  of  her  friends  to  spend  the  evening, 
that  they  might  not  only  be  witnesses  to  what  pasoed 
in  conversation,  but  that  Werter  might  be  induced 
to  retire  the  sooner,  in  consequence  of  seeing  the 
ladies  home.  He  had  brought  some  books ;  which, 
with  those  he  had  before  lent  her,  she  turned  into 
subjects  of  discourse,  adding  to  these  other  indif- 
ferent topics,  to  amuse  away  the  time  till  some  of 
her  party  came.  Presently,  however,  the  seivant 
returned  with  a  variety  of  excuses,  and  this  pre- 
caution was  of  no  effect.  Though  embarrassed  at 
the  disappointment  for  a  little  while,  the  approba- 
tion of  her  own  conscience  and  purity  of  heart;  so  : 
re-inspired  her  with  confidence,  and  made  her  look 
with  an  eye  superior  to  the  little  jealousies  of  Al- 
bert. Hence  she  rejected  hec  previous  intention  of 
ordering  the  maid  to  remain  hi  the  room,  and  turned 
to  her  harpsichord,  at  which  she  played  a  few  of 
her  favourite  airs,  till,  finding  her  wonted  serenity 
had  returned,  she  sat  down  on  the  sofa  by  the  side 
of  Werter,  and  asked  him,  if, lie  had  selected  any 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


123 


thing  to  read  to  her.  Upon  his  gravely  replying  in 
the  negative,  she  said,  "  Open  that  drawer,  Werter, 
and  in  it  you  will  find  your  own  translation  of  the 
Songs  of  Ossian,  which  I  have  not  yet  read,  because 
I  knew  they  would  come  with  more  sweetness  from 
your  lips ;  but  for  soms  time  past  you  have  been 
such  an  idler,  that  I  was  unwilling  to  ask  you  about 
them !"  

With  a  faint  smile,  he  rose  to  fetch  the  manu- 
script ;  but  he  seemed  violently  agitated  as  he  took 
it  up.  His  eyes  were  suffused  with  tears,  and  his 
voice  faltered,  as  he  read.  He  proceeded  till  he 
came  to  that  tender  passage  wherein  Armin  deplores 
the  loss  of  his  beloved  daughter. 

Alone  on  the  briny-lav'd  rock 

My  daughter  exclaim'd  in  her  wo ; 

For  help  and  her  father  she  call'd — 
Her  father  no  help  could  bestow. 

By  the  moon,  as  I  stood  on  the  shore, 
I  faintly  could  trace  her  fine  foim  ; 

My  ears  by  her  shrieks  were  appall'd — 
Her  shrieks  that  exceeded  the  storm. 

Her  voice,  ere  the  dawning  of  day 
Had  ceas'd  to  declaim  the  sad  tale, 

It  sunk  into  whispers  like  grass 

That's  wav'd  on  the  rock  by  the  gale. 

She  perish'd — exhausted  by  grief 
She  left  thee,  lone  Armin,  forlorn  *, 

Thy  prowess  in  war  is  no  more, 
Thy  pride  among  women  is  gone  ! 

When  storms  from  the  mountains  arise, 
And  waves  from  the  North  billow  high, 

I  sit  by  the  surge,  and  I  look 
At  the  rock  where  she  died,  with  a  sigh ! 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


Whene'er  the  moon  sets,  I  behold 
The  shades  of  my  children — alas! 

They  rise,  but  in  part  to  my  view 
As  in  converse  they  mournfully  pass. 

u  In  pity,  my  children,  O  speak !" 

Unheeded,  I  see  them  depart : — 
O  Carmor,  I've  reason  to  weep, 

For  deep  is  the  wo  at  my  heart ! 

A  flood  of  tears  streamed  from  the  eyes  of  Char- 
lotte, and  gave  a  partial  relief  to  the  oppression 
which  the  poem  had  excited.  Werter  threw  down 
the  paper,  grasped  her  hand,  and  bedewed  it  with 
his  tears.  Charlotte  supported  herself  on  the  other 
arm,  and  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes — their 
agitation  was  mutual  and  extreme.  They  traced  the 
similitude  of  their  own  misfortune  in  this  unhappy 
tale,  and  their  feelings  sprang  from  the  same  source. 
Werter's  eyes  wrere  ardently  riveted  on  her  snowy 
arms — she  trembled,  and  made  an  effort  to  leave  the 
room  ;  but  a  tender  sympathy  detained  her — till,  re- 
lieved by  a  deep  sigh  and  more  tears,  she  desired 
him  to  continue  the  subject — Werter,  though  faint 
and  sinking,  took  up  the  paper,  and,  in  broken  ac- 
cents, proceeded: 

Say,  why  dost  thou  wake  me  ?  O  gale ! 

It  answers,  "with  dew-drops  I'm  wet — 
But  the  time  of  my  fading  draws  nigh, 

The  blast  when  my  leaves  shall  all  set." 

The  trav'ler  shall  come  on  the  morrow, 
He  who  knew  me  the  bravest  of  men — 

In  the  meads  he  shall  seek  me  in  sorrow, 
But  never  behold  me  again ! 

The  pointed  allusion  of  those  words  to  the  situa- 
tion of  Werter,  rushed  with  all  the  electric  rapidity 


SORKOWS  OF  WERTER. 


125 


of  lightning  to  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul.  In 
an  agony  of  despair,  he  projected  himself  at  the 
feet  of  Charlotte,  and,  seizing  her  hands,  pressed 
them  alternately  to  his  eyes  and  forehead.  Char- 
lotte, for  the  first  time,  conceived  the  fatal  project 
he  gave  such  indications  of: — the  sorrow  she  felt 
almost  deprived  her  of  the  use  of  reason :  she  affec- 
tionately folded  her  hands  in  his,  pressed  them  to 
her  bosom,  and,  while  absorbed  in  the  emotions  of 
poignant  sensibility,  and  gently  inclining  her  head 
over  him,  her  glowing  cheek  sank  upon  his.  At 
this  juncture  of  conflicting  passion,  they  were  in- 
sensible to  every  thing  but  mutual  love.  Werter  en- 
folded her  in  his  arms,  strained  her  to  his  palpitating 
heart,  and  planted  on  her  lips  a  thousand  ardent 
kisses ! — "  Werter !"  was  all  she  exclaimed  in  a 
voice  of  tremor,  and  averted  her  face.  Again  she 
repeated  "  Werter  !" — and  with  a  feeble  hand,  she 
removed  him  from  her ;  once  more  at  liberty,  she 
withdrew  a  few  paces,  and  then  with  the  majestic 
and  imperious  tone  of  virtue,  she  once  more  em- 
phaticallv  pronounced  the  name  of  "  Werter !" 
Struck  with  the  warning  awful  voice,  he  sank  upon 
his  knees,  at  a  more  respectful  distance ! — Agitated 
beyond  expression,  she  tremblingly  advanced  to  the 
door,  and  in  the  accents  of"  pity,  mingled  with  dis- 
pleasure, she  thus  addressed  him :  "  Werter,  this  is 
the  last  time  we  meet — never  shall  you  behold  me 
again !" — She  then  summoned  every  look  intc  her 
countenance  that  is  benign,  tender,  and  affectionate, 
and,  after  gazing  upon  him  for  a  moment,  fiew  to 
her  chamber,  and  locked  the  door.  Werter  re- 
mained on  his  knees,  with  his  arms  instinctively  ex- 
tended towards  her,  but  he  made  no  effort  to  detain 
her.  For  some  time  he  continued  on  the  floor,  his 
head  reclining  on  the  sofa,  till  he  was  roused  from 
his  stupor  by  the  servant  coming  to  lay  the  cloth. 
During  this,  he  traversed  the  room,  impatient  till 
the  servant  was  gone,  when  he  softly  stole  to  the 


126 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


door  of  Charlotte's  chamber,  and  in  a  soft  voice  ar- 
ticulated, "  Charlotte,  Charlotte — one  word  more 
— only  one — one  last  farewell!"  He  listened,  he 
waited — but  no  answer  was  returned.  Again  he 
listened,  urged  this  as  a  last  favour;  all  was  silent  : 
— he  then  tore  himself  from  the  place,  and  in  the 
piercing  tone  of  despair  ejaculated,  "  Charlotte,  dear, 
dearest  Charlotte,  farewell ! — farewell — for  ever  !" 

He  directed  his  tottering  steps  to  the  gate  of  the 
town,  where  the  guard  knew  him,  and  let  him  pass. 
It  was  a  dark  stormy  night,  attended  with  much 
rain  and  snow.  He  reached  his  abode  about  ele- 
ven, and  came  in  without  his  hat,  which  the  servant 
prudently  passed  unnoticed  : — he  also  perceived,  in 
undressing  him,  that  his  clothes  were  wet  and 
dirty.  This  hat  was  afterwards  found  on  the  pin- 
nacle of  a  rock,  branching  from  the  declivity  of  a 
mountain,  where  it  seemed  beyond  the  practicabi- 
lity of  man  to  have  climbed  in  such  a  dark  and 
stormy  night  without  making  a  false  step  from  the 
precipice,  and  being  dashed  to  atoms.  He  went  to 
bed,  and  enjoyed  repose  till  late  the  next  morning. 
When  his  servant  brought  in  the  breakfast,  he  was 
writing,  in  continuation  of  the  former  letter  to  Char- 
lotte. 

LETTER  LXXXIX. 

k 

Continuation. 

FOR  the  last,  last  time  I  open  these  eyes — Alas  • 
to  them  the  sun  will  never  rise  again — a  thick  im- 
penetrable mist  is  spread  before  it ! — No  more  v.  ill 
they  be  enchanted  with  thy  angelic  form — Yes!  let 
nature  put  on  mourning,  for  your  friend  and  lover 
is  on  the  verge  of  the  awful  abyss! — Death  ! — what 
is  death  ?— everlasting  sleep  ! — I  feel  the  force  of 
this  sentiment:  yet  when  I  say  this  day  is  my  last, 
I  think  I  am  in  a  dream.    Ah !  what"  means  this 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


127 


word  last .  To-day  I  stand  upright,  in  all  the  pride 
of  perfection  ;— to-morrow,  cold  and  motionless,  I  lie 
extended  on  tlie  earth  !  What  is  this  annihilation, 
of  which  we  dream,  but  know  nothing?  I  have 
seen  many  die  :  but  so  contracted  is  the  boundary 
of  our  narrow  intellects,  that  we  have  no  definitive 
conception  of  either  the  commencement  or  termina- 
tion of  our  existence !— At  this  moment,  I  am  my- 
self, or  rather,  dearest  of  women,  I  am  thine!— In 
the  next,  cut  off,  lost  to  thee,  perhaps,  for  ever ! — 
But,  no — no  !— Charlotte,  as  we  are  sensible  of  our 
present  existence,  we  cannot  be  annihilated  !— This 
annihilation,  this  cessation  of  being,  what  is  it  ? — To 
my  mind  it  conveys  no  other  idea  than  an  empty 
Round  ! — Death  ! — to  be  interred  in  a  deep,  dark, 
cold  grave  !  There  was  a  time  when  I  had  a  friend, 
the  solace,  the  delight  of  my  juvenile  days — she 
died  : — I  followe  i  her  hearse — I  stood  by  the  side  of 
the  grave  when  the  coffin  was  let  down,  and  heard 
the  creaking  of  the  cords,  as  it  rested  on  them.  The 
first  shovel-full  of  earth  that  was  thrown  on  the  cof- 
fin produced  a  hollow  sound ;  the  succeeding  ones 
were  heard  more  faintly,  and  at  last  the  grave  was 
filled  up  ! — Then  it  was  that  I  threw  myself  on  the 
ground,  my  heart  was  breaking,  severed,  over- 
whelmed with  sorrow  !— But  I  was  as  insensible 
to  what  had  happened,  as  ignorant  of  what  was  to 
happen ! — Death  ! — grave  ! — Unintelligible  words ! 

Forgive,  forgive  me,  beloved  Charlotte.  Yester- 
day ! — yesterday ! — oh  !  that  impassioned  moment 
ought  to  have  been  the  last  of  my  life — for  then  I 
should  have  died  in  eestacy,  knowing  that  I  am  be- 
loved by  thee  ! — Loved  by  thee  ! — there  did  the  de- 
lightful sense  for  the  first  time  rush  through  and 
enflame  my  bosom! — My  lips  still  glow  with  the 
sacred  fire  they  received  from  thine  ! — the  torrent  of 
pleasure  which  then  overflowed  still  sets  into  my 
heart! — Ah,  but  to  offend — forgive,  forgive,  dear 
Charlotte !    I  thought  I  was  dear  to  thee ! — I  read 


128 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


it  in  that  animated  look  which  thou  first  viewed  mo 
with.  I  was  sensible  of  it  the  first  time  thou  didst 
gently  press  this  hand  ! — Yet,  when  I  was  absent,  or 
saw  Albert  at  thy  side,  all  my  doubts  and  fears  re- 
vived. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  the  flowers  I  received  from 
thee,  when,  at  a  crowded  assembly,  1  could  neither 
get  to  speak  to  thee,  nor  couldst  thou  give  me-  thy 
hand  ? — I  passed  the  half  of  that  night  in  kneeling 
and  adoring  those  pledges  of  affection — Theirsweets 
have  worn  away  by  time,  and  are  now  effaced  ;  but 
an  endless  eternity  could  not  extinguish  the  flame 
which  thy  sweet  lips  kindled  yesterday  in  my  whole 
frame ! — Thou  lovest  me  ! — I  have  embraced  thee  in 
these  arms! — T  have  joined  these  enraptured  lips  to 
thine!  Mine  only  art  thou,  O  my  Charlotte — mine 
for  ever ! 

I  know  that  Albert  is  thy  husband  ! — What  results  r 
— that  he  is  thine  for  this  life  only — and  in  this  life  it 
is  holden  criminal  to  love  thee,  to  tear  thee  from  him  ! 
This  is  my  crime,  and  it  shall  be  expiated. — It  has 
afforded  me  a  taste  of  pleasure,  a  balm  of  comfort 
which  has  revived  my  soul.  Henceforth,  though  1 
shall  never  more  sip  delight  at  that  celestial  spring, 
I  call  thee  from  this  moment  mine ! — Yes,  Char- 
lotte, thou  art  mine  ! — I  only  go  before  thee  to  my 
father — to  thy  father,  to  pour  out  my  sorrows  at  the 
foot  of  his  celestial  throne,  and  partake  of  his  hea- 
venly peace,  till  thou  art  ready  to  follow  me — Then 
will  I  fly  on  seraphic  pinions  to  welcome  thee — then 
will  I  claim  thee  as  my  own,  and  in  the  presence  of 
the  Eternal  be  united  to  thee  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting  ! — This  is  no  dream  of  hope,  no  raving  of 
fancy ;  my  intellects  at  this  awful  crisis  are  col- 
lected and  strong — they  bid  thee  remember  thai  we 
shall  live  in  a  future  state !  that  ice  shall  recognise, 
we  shall  behold  each  other  in  a  better  world! 


ABOUT  eleven  o'clock  Werter  inquired  of  his 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


129 


servant  if  Albert  had  yet  returned,  and  was  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative,  as  he  had  seen  him  pass 
by  on  horseback.  Werter  then  addressed  the  follow- 
ing note  to  Albert,  and  sent  it,  unsealed,  by  his 
servant : 

"  Dear  Albert, 
"  Pray  lend  me  your  pistols,  I  am  going  a  long 
journey ! — Adieu! 

WERTER." 

The  susceptible  Charlotte  passed  that  night  in  the 
greatest  distress  and  agitation.  A  crowd  of  rack- 
ing ideas  filled  her  restless  fancy!  The  ardour  of 
Wcrter's  passionate  embraces  had  overcome  every 
Other  barrier,  and  found  their  way  to  her  heart ! — All 
her  former  days  of  innocence  and  serenity  were 
contrasted  with  the  present,  and  were  more  and 
more  alluring  from  comparison.  She  feared  to  en- 
counter the  frowns  and  reproaches  of  Albert,  when 
he  should  have  been  informed  of  Werter's  visit,  and 
for  the  first  time  felt  the  necessity  of  reverting  to 
the  aid  of  falsehood,  and  the  concealment  of  that 
ingenuous  truth,  which  she  had  ever  practised  as  a 
sacred  duty.  Her  great  delicacy  and  indecision  in 
the  affair  increased  her  sense  of  the  dilemma  in 
which  she  stood  ;  and  yet  she  could  neither  resolve 
to  hate  the  author,  nor  forbid  him  her  presence. 
Languid  and  exhausted,  she  was  but  just  dressed 
when  her  husband  entered;  his  presence  now,  for 
the  first  time,  afforded  her  no  satisfaction,  and  she 
trembled  lest  he  should  remark  that  she  had  been 
weeping,  and  read  in  her  pale  countenance  the  want 
of  sleep — apprehensions  which,  on  her  part,  served  to 
increase  her  difficulties.  The  eager  manner  in  Avhich 
she  welcomed  him  on  his  return,  was  more  expressive 
of  alarm  and  embarrassment  than  real  satisfaction. 
The  difference  was  not  to  be  concealed  from  the 
penetrating  eye  of  Albert,  who,  after  opening  some 


M 


130 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


letters,  significantly  asked  if  there  was  any  news, 
and  who  had  visited  her  during  his  absence?  She 
replied  hesitatingly,  that  Werter  had  called  yester 
day,  and  staid  about  an  hour.  "  He  chooses  his- 
time  very  aptly  !"  said  Albert  churlishly,  and  with- 
drew to  his  own  room.  Charlotte  ramained  alone, 
in  deep  thought,  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  during 
which  a  new  train  of  ideas  entered  her  mind. 

She  was  treated  coldly  by  the  man  whom  she  had 
always  loved  and  esteemed ;  and  when  his  former 
kindness,  his  generosity,  and  his  unshaken  Iovp, 
passed  in  review  before  her,  she  felt  the  sting  of  in- 
gratitude. Prompted  by  a  secret  impulse,  she  tot^? 
her  work  in  her  hand,  as  was  her  usual  custom,  jumJ 
followed  to  his  room.  Having  entered,  she  mildly 
asked  if  he  were  in  want  of  any  thing  ;  but  Albei  t 
answered  with  a  sullen  negative,  and  began  to  write. 
She  then  sat  down,  and  worked,  while  Albert  occa- 
sionally rose,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in 
great  agitation,  during  which  she  embraced  the  op- 
portunity of  entering  into  conversation  with  him  ; 
but  in  vain ;  he  answered  with  a  disgustful  brevity, 
and  resumed  his  seat  at  the  writing-table.  Her  si- 
tuation was  now  rendered  the  more  galling,  by  the 
efforts  she  made  to  conceal  the  distress  she  felt,  and 
to  restrain  the  tears  which  were  ready  to  flow.  An 
hour  had  passed  away  in  this  discordant  manner 
when  the  arrival  of  Werter's  servant  perfected  the 
misery  of  Charlette.  When  Albert  had  perused  the 
note,  he  turned  to  his  wife,  and  coldly  said,  "  Give 
hi  in  the  pistols — I  wish  him  a  good  journey  !" — This 
order  rushed  like  a  thunderbolt  through  the  ago- 
nized brain  of  Charlotte — she  rose  alarmed,  and 
with  an  unwilling  step  went  to  the  wall  where  the 
pistols  were  suspended,  and  took  them  down  trem- 
blingly. She  then  leisurely  began  to  clean  them 
from  the  dust,  and  would  have  made  still  greater 
delay,  had  not  a  significant  look  from  Albert  com- 
manded her  to  deliver  the  fatal  weapons  to  the  ser- 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


131 


vant,  which  she  did,  unable  to  utter  a  single  word  : 
she  then  folded  up  her  work,  and  retired  to  her 
chamber,  where  she  gave  way  to  the  most  poignant 
grief  and  portentous  forebodings.  At  times  she  felt 
a  rising  inclination  to  return,  and  throw  herself  at 
the  feet  of  Albert,  to  divulge  all  that  had  happened 
the  preceding  evening,  to  acknowledge  her  errors, 
and  her  dreadful  apprehensions  :  but  these  inten- 
tions were  frustrated,  by  the* conviction  that  such 
measures  would  rather  have  a  prejudicial  effect,  and 
that  Albert  would  on  no  account  be  induced  to  go 
to  Werter.  Soon  after,  dinner  was  served,  and  a 
friend  of  Charlotte's  dropped  in,  whom  she  detained 
to  support  the  conversation. 

Werter  was  in  raptures  when  his  rervant  informed 
him  that  Charlotte  had  delivered  the  pistols  with' 
her  own  hands.    He  partook  of  some  bread  and 
wine,  told  his  servant  to  get  his  dinner,  and  then  sat 
do  .mi  to  write. 

In  continuation. 

Dearest  Charlotte, 
YOUli  hands  have  grasped  these  pistols,  you 
have  cleansed  them  from  the  dust,  you  have  wiped 
them  for  me  ! — and  I  press  them  to  my  lips.  It  is 
plain  that  heaven  approves  of  my  design,  since  your 
hands  have  furnished  me  with  the  fatal  instruments, 
those  hands  from  which  I  have  long  earnestly  wish- 
ed to  receive  my  fate  ! — But  you  trembled  when  you 
delivered  them,  and  did  not  vouchsafe  me  one  part- 
ing farewell !  The  moment  is  at  hand  which  will 
for  ever  unite  us  inseparably,  and  can  your  heart  be 
closed  against  me?  O  Charlotte,  the  tender  im- 
pression no  time  can  erase  ;  and  certain  I  am  you 
cannot  hate  the  man  who  in  his  last  moments  pas- 
sionately adores  you ! 


WERTER  after  dinner  ordered  his  trunk  to  be 


132 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


packed  up;  and,  having  destroyed  some  papers,  lie 
went  out  to  discharge  a  few  small  debts  in  the 
neighbourhood — he  returned  soon  after,  and  not- 
withstanding the  rain,  went  out  again  to  the  Count's 
garden,  and  thence  farther  into  the  country  ;  he  re- 
turned at  night,  and  once  more  resumed  his  pen. 

LETTER  XC. 

My  Dear  William, 

FOR  the  last  time  I  have  taken  a  view  of  the  gar- 
dens, the  valleys,  the  mountains,  and  the  sky. — 
Farewell ! — entreat  my  dear  mother  to  pardon  me — 
be  the  support  and  comfort  of  her  declining  years, 
and  heaven  will  reward  your  goodness  ! — All  my  af- 
fairs are  arranged! — we  only  part  to  meet  again  in 
another  and  a  happier  world! 

Forgive  me,  Albert,  for  having  disturbed  the  do 
mestic  tranquillity  of  your  family.  1  have  planted 
the  thorns  of  jealousy,  and  cancelled  that  mutual 
confidence  which  once  subsisted  between  you  and 
Charlotte!  Accept  my  death  as  the  remuneratjon— 
it  will  remove  every  obstacle  to  your  happiness! — 
O,  Albert,  treat  that  angel  with  affection ;  and  the 
benediction  of  heaven  will  be  upon  you  both !" 

He  now  inspected  some  other  papers,  some  of 
which  he  destroyed,  and  others  he  sealed  up  and 
addressed  to  his  friend.  They  were  chiefly  com- 
posed of  undigested  ideas,  and  the  spontaneous 
effusions  of  a  wandering  mind.  At  ten  he  ordered 
the  servant  to  make  up  the  fire,  and  bring  in  a  pint 
of  wine;  he  was  then  dismissed,  and  retired  to  his 
bed,  which,  as  well  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the  fa- 
mily, lay  at  a  distant  part  of  the  house.  He  slept 
in  his  cloths,  that  he  migt  be  the  more  ready  the 
next  morning  to  attend  his  master,  who  had  inform- 
ed him  that  the  post-hurses  would  be  ready  at  the 
door  by  six  o'clock. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER 


133 


LETTER  XCI. 

Weder  to  Charlotte  in  continuation. 

Past  11  o'clock. 

NOW  is  all  around  me  hushed,  and  my  soul  is 
calm!  Receive  my  thanks,  merciful  Father,  For  thy 
goodness  in  suffering  my  hist  moments  to  be  col- 
lected and  firm! 

Through  my  window  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  stars 
as  the  broken  clouds  are  impetuously  driven  by  the 
wind.  Ye  bodies  celestial,  ye  will  never  fui] — the 
eternal  Creator  supports  both  you  and  me.  As  I 
razed  on  these  luminaries,  that  most  beautiful  of 
all  tho  constellations  presented  itself  to  my  sight — 
it  used  to  shine  full  on  your  door,  when  1  parted 
with  you  in  the  evening : — how  often  have  I  stretched 
out  my  hands  towards  it,  and  invoked  it  as  the  wit- 
ness of  my  felicity! — O  Charlotte,  where  ecu  I  turn 
that  I  am  not  reminded  of  thy  divine  image  ? — On 
all  sides  it  surrounds  me! — And  all  the  things 
which  thy  hand  has  pressed,  I  have,  like  a  child, 
collected  together,  and  consider  each  trifle  as  hal- 
lowed ! 

Charlotte,  I  return  thee  thy  dear  profile — and 
pray  do  not  esteem  it  lightly,  for  I  have  lavished  a 
thousand  fond  kisses  on  it,  and  addressed  to  it  a 
thousand  prayers ! — I  have  written  to  your  father 
to  intreat  that  he  will  take  care  of  my  remains.  At 
that  angle  of  the  church-yard  which  looks  towards 
the  meadows,  are  two  lime  trees — there  let  me  lie— 
your  father  can  procure  this  for  his  friend,  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  urge  my  request.    Perhaps  some  de 
vout  Christians  may  hereafter  object  to  be  interred 
near  the  corpse  of  such  a  one  as  I  shall  soon  be» 
— if  so,  then  I  must  be  buried  in  the  high  way,  that 
the  priest  and  the  levite,  when  they  pass  my  tomb 
may  raise  their  sanctified  looks  to  heaven,  and  be 

Mm 


134 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


thankful  that  they  are  not  so — while  the  Samaritan 
will  stop,  and  drop  the  tear  of  pity  for  my  fate. 

Charlotte,  I  now  prepare  the  fatal  instrument 
which  thy  hand  presented  ;  nor  do  I  feel  one  terror! 
Have  I  not  the  satisfaction  of  perishing  foi  your 
sake  ?  Will  not  my  sacrifice  restore  peace  and  tran- 
quillity to  the  bosom  I  adore  !  Ah  !  it  is  reserved 
only  to  the  few  to  shed  their  blood  for  the  happiness 
of  those  who  are  dearer  to  them  than  existence. 

Let  me,  Charlotte,  be  interred  in  the  same  dress  I 
now  have  on  :— it  has  Leon  worn  in  thy  presence, 
and  therefore  it  is  dear  to  nie.  I  have  requested 
this  indulgence  also  of  youi  father.  My  soul  hovers 
over  the  grave  !  Do  not  suffer  my  pockets  to  be 
searched— in  them  is  the  knot  of  pink  ribbon  which 
you  wore  on  your  bosom  the  first  time  I  saw  you 
surrounded  by  the  children !  Sweet  innocents,  I 
see  them  all  in  fancy  sporting  around  you—give 
them  a  thousand  kisses  for  Werter's  sake !— Ah  ! 
Charlotte,  at  that  first  moment  my  soul  was  attracted 
to  thee— and  never  since  have  I  been  able  to  repel 
thy  image  from  my  heart ! 

The  pistols  are  loaded! — all  is  still !— the  clock 
strikes  twelve  !— -Hark!  I  am  summoned!  Char- 
lotte, my  mind  is  firm  !— Beloved,  farewell!" 

One  of  the  neighbours  saw  the  flash,  and  heard 
the  report  of  the  pistol ;  but,  as  it  excited  no  farther 
alarm,  he  passed  it  unnoticed.  At  six  in  tbe  morn- 
ing, the  servant,  punctual  to  the  hour  appointed  by 
his  master,  went  into  his  room  with  a  candle,  and 
found  him  extended  on  the  floor,  and  weltering  in 
his  blood;  he  raised  him  up,  and  spoke  to  him,  but 
received  no  answer.  Imagining  he  was  not  wholly 
dead,  he  ran  to  fetch  a  surgeon,  and  then  went  to 
Albert's.— Charlotte,  on  hearing  the  gate-bell  ring, 
was  seized  with  an  ominous  trepidation  ;  and  when 
the  servant  related  the  event,  she  fell  senseless  on 
the  floor  at  her  husband's  feet.    Albert  immediately 


SORROWS  OF  WERTER. 


136 


hurried  on  his  clothes,  and  flew  to  the  fatal  room  ; 
but,  by  the  time  he  had  arrived,  the  unfortunate 
youth  was  no  more  !— The  surgeon,  previous  to  his 
coming,  had  found  a  faint  motion  in  the  pulse,  and 
had  opened  a  vein  ;  but  all  was  ineffectual.  The 
ball  entered  the  temple,  just  above  the  eye,  and 
pierced  upwards  through  the  brain.  The  blood 
which  surrounded  his  chair  makes  it  probable  that 
he  committed  the  fatal  act  as  he  sat  at  his  writing- 
desk,  and  fell  thence  on  the  floor.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  blue  frock  and  buff  waistcoat,  and  was  booted. 
He  had  drank  only  one  glass  of  wine,  and  on  Iiis 
bureau  Emilia  Galotti  was  lying  open. 

To  depict  the  distress  of  Albert  and  Charlotte 
would  be  impossible.  It  may  be  better  conceived 
than  described ! 

.  The  old  steward,  on  hearing  of  the  event,  hasten- 
ed to  the  house,  and  wept  over  the  body  of  his  la- 
mented friend.  The  children  paid  their  tribute  of 
sincere  and  affectionate  sorrow.  At  night  the  fune- 
ral was  conducted  with  silent  solemnity,  without 
perade,  to  the  spot  which  Werter  had  himself 
chosen  ;  no  priest  attended.  The  body  was  followed 
by  the  steward  and  his  sons,  who  hallowed  the 
memory  of  this  esteemed  man  with  unaffected  sighs 
and  tears. 


FINIS. 


vi 


ANDRUS,  GAUNTLETT,  &  CO. 

I  BOÖISELLEES, 

Publishers,  Stationers,  Printers,  Binders, 
and  Paper-Makers, 


The  following  valuable  works  are  among  their  pub- 
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lowest  rates  for  cash : 


Josephus's  Works,  6  vols. 
Rollin  s  Ancient  Hist  8  v. 
Plutarcli's  Lives. 
Life  of  Pati  ick  Henry. 
Mack's  Life  of  Lafayette. 
Ramsay's  Washington. 
Linn's  Life  of  Jefferson. 


Robinson  {&usoe. 
<Life  of  Gen.  Putnam: 

Li«  of  William  TelL 
'^Charlotte  Temple. 
;  Sorrow's  of  Werter. 
sDixons  Comic  Songs. 

Universal  Dream  Book. 


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v  Dr.  EMjah  White.         "  <Preston's  Interest  Tables. 

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Checks,  and  Promissory  Notes. <The  Farmer's  Hand-book. 


Goldsmith's  Greece. 

Do.  Rome. 
Self-Cultivation. 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii 
The  New  Letter  Writer. 
Rasselas,  by  Johnson. 
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The  Lady  of  the  Lake..-. 
Arabian  Nights.  J 
The  Mountain  Mourner. 
Book  of  Tales  for  Youth. 


jHawee's  School  Diary. 
New  York  State  Atlas. 
>Maps  of  eaebt  County  hi  the 

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I    York,  Texas,  Mexico,  the 
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